How to Court a Dragon Prince
by Jayalaw
Summary: Sequel to "How to Protect a Dragon Conqueror." Circumstances beyond Hiccup's control force him to vacate Berk. He has to adapt his peace-making and Viking manners to enemy Scots in Dunbroch. Dunbroch offers protection from dishonorable Vikings, but Hiccup does not feel safe. Sooner or later, the Scots will learn of dragon-riding's war potential, and Alvin will return. NOT Mericcup
1. Prologue

**Hey all. Here is the sequel to _How to Protect a Dragon Conqueror_, _How to Court a Dragon Prince_. Hiccup's in enemy territory with the Scots, thought not out of choice. The next few chapters will reveal how he got to this point.**

**Elmo daHorse- I couldn't agree more, :D. It was an Outcast keel, so it will live.**

**Stratoc- Yes, Alvin will be back. And Outcasts aren't the only ones who threaten Hiccup. I wanted that emotional reconciliation because I wrote on plenty of Adult Fear.**

**Doomsday Beam- Thank you! Hope you enjoy this sequel. **

**johnnylee619- Yes there is. Here it is. :)**

**live laugh play music- Thank you!**

This is sunrise. Farmers prod frozen sheep to dew-kissed pastures and grapple with grass to plans their cabbages. No matter where you sleep, prison cell or a palace, the gods always sling the flaming light across the sky. Its rays scorch your eyes if you look directly and cast shadows over familiar objects. And if you live in a particular place, its presence spurs certain people awaken to steal clothing.

That's what had happened to me, Hiccup, Berk's Dragon Trainer and Stoick the Vast's son. To pass the hours before breakfast, I had peeled off foreign silk garments to work with metal and fire. The castle smithy was a wood-lined basement and a metal trapdoor. My dragon, Toothless, curled next to the coals like a salamander. He rubbed his back and warbled.

Sunlight invaded the strange room. So did three invaders. I looked up and saw tiny hands grasping at the silk. Toothless spat fire at the hands. Their curly-headed owner giggled and dodged. Striped tunics and nightcaps fluttered.

"Toothless, knock it off," I said. "Let them have their fun."

Toothless scanned me from head to toe. His eyes held an obvious question.

"Rules number one of being a blacksmith," I recited, reaching, "is always carry a spare . . ." My voice trailed off. Only air and dust remained where I had hung an extra tunic. "Boys!"

More giggling. I faced the sound.

"Look, once is funny, but I want to make a good impression on your parents. I can't exactly do that if I'm half-naked." I gestured.

That was a mistake. Eyes bulged from their hiding place. Too late, I tried to cover myself. Curse this sunlight!

The boys crawled out. Identical triplets, all with curly hair. Their gazes met at the same coil of bruises around my chest which trailed from shoulders to the back. Silk dropped to the floor.

"Where?" The one on the left asked.

"Not telling," I said bluntly.

"Who?" The middle triplet asked.

"A bad man." Not the one whose slit throat and laugh haunted my nightmares, but bad nevertheless.

"Why?" This was the third triplet.

"Because I'm important." My voice was sarcastic.

We locked eyes. It was like peering into three pairs of emerald mirrors. Not for the first time, I asked myself, _Why am I here? How am I safer in a Scottish castle with royal monsters than in the Archipelago? _

Breakfast bell. The left triplet pulled open a trapdoor; he and his brothers vanished. Toothless growled at the dust.

I gathered the silk shirts in a wrinkled wad. The bruises throbbed against the silk. _Why am I here?_


	2. Chapter One

**Now we find out exactly how Hiccup ended up in Scotland, and how he got those bruises.**

**Stratoc- Thanks! And this should answer the question of what happens when Alvin comes back**

**live laugh play music- There are several chapters, actually. :) **

**TWO MONTHS AGO**

In the old days at a Thing, Vikings would spend the first day battling to see who spoke first. Now we're civilized warriors. Those who arrive first, talk first. Those who argue get punched. No one declares war, so we've made peace. What an achievement.

That gave my father and me an advantage, for only Berk had learned to ride dragons. Dad and I left, chief and son, on our respective Thunderdrum and Night Fury. Our retinue would follow by boat because the other dragon riders had to stay and mind the Academy, or at least mind each other. Dad fretted, but Things were CIVILIZED. No one would attack on Frigga's Promise, the island of peace and covenants. That's what he kept telling me.

"Dad," I said for the thirteenth time, "you don't have to repeat yourself. Only an idiot would attack a Thunderdrum's rider."

My father brushed away icicles from his beard and scowled. Thornado ignored the frost. Idiots had attacked before. Some had succeeded.

Dad was also on edge because Toothless and I refused to take the straight route. Flight liberated us, especially since poisoned arrows had grounded Toothless. We punched holes through cloud cover and scattered migrating flocks. Miles of open sky meant no nets, crossbows or catapults unless we sighted land, and my dragon took advantage of that opportunity.

"Hiccup, knock it off!" Dad roared as we split a fluttering flock on two. "We want the other chiefs to take us seriously, and we can't do that if you're playing with birds!"

I nudged, and Toothless slowed to a steady hover. The sky had begun to clear up anyway.

Despite the cloudy weather and sky antics, we made good progress. A day passed before we reached Frigga's Promise- a day filled with ice crystals and migrating birds. As we approached, trees grew like grubby fingernails on the frail shores. Sand melted into wood boards at the dock, blurring the line between a soft and rough landing. Toothless, still giddy from our spinning, managed a slippery thus onto the rocks. I slid off him and helped Dad with his overnight sack.

"First ones here," he said with satisfaction. "That means our complaints will be heard first."

"Assuming people want to listen," I muttered. Dad pretended not to hear. He led us to a damp path. Thornado's wide claws dug up spongy dirt as he walked. Toothless, worn out from the flying, dragged his wings on the ground. I patted him.

"We have to clean up first," Dad explained. "It's amazing how one Viking's order can make all the difference. There is a bathing spring up ahead, unused since the last thing. Jason may even have some soap for us."

I made an effort to not roll my eyes. "Gobber said not to get the bandages on my arm wet. How will we manage? And who's Jason?"

The shrubbery nipped at our boots. "Jason is the Sanctuary Slave on Frigga's Promise; he cares for it during the off-season and tends to all the Vikings during Things. If he didn't have that mark, people would pay gold to have him keeping their houses."

"A slave?" My tone came out harsher than intended. "There are slaves at Things?"

"Slave," Dad corrected me. "He works alone. It's an honored position, much better than serving the Hysterics or Lava Louts."

Emotions clenched my jaw. My history involved Lava Louts. Dad realized his mistake.

"I didn't mean that," he said. "Jason's a Greek or Roman old-timer, a relic of a formerly glorious kingdom; no one dares mistreat him. Besides being under Frigga's protection, Jason knows how to mediate and find solutions. He's prevented dozens of wars and skirmishes from happening while cleaning others' armor. If he were born a Viking-"

"Why is he a slave?"

"Captured in an ancient war, sought sanctuary on Frigga's Promise after ten years of abuse. Proved his worth when settling a treaty between the Scots and Berk's Vikings. Shame it didn't last, but it was the thought that counted."

"A treaty with the Scots?" I was shocked. "The Scots hate us! Who could travel to them and come back to tell the tale?"

"Our ancestor, Hamish the Second. Jason knew him, and they were good friends."

Hamish the Second! I was stunned into silence. My ancestor was not only a hiccup but a brilliant inventor with a love for death traps; I had gotten to know him through a treasure hunt. He had attempted peace with the SCOTS?

"But if Jason and Hamish II were the same age, then Jason is . . ."

"A few centuries old and still kicking." Dad watched my bewildered face with amusement, the first smile that had graced his face in days. "When a god looks out for you, they look out for you."

My face clenched again, but for different reasons. We had reached the pool by then, so Dad didn't notice. He reached out to hug the white-haired man approaching us.

"So you're Stoick's boy, the one everyone's talking about!" He surveyed me before taking me in his wiry arms. I smelled herbal paste and dirt. "You did well to arrive on such a magnificent beast."

The flattery allowed Jason to pet my Night Fury's head. Toothless still locked eyes with him.

"You look so much like him," Jason said.

"Like my father?" He had to be kidding.

"Part of you. The rest looks like Hamish." Jason looked as if this were the highest honor to bestow on Hamish's youngest descendant. I felt the hairs on my neck squirm.

"Thanks. You don't know what that means to me."

"Choice words." His eyes twinkled. The twinkles faded, however, when his wrinkled hands grasped my arms and felt the bandages. "What happened to you, Stoick's boy? It feels like you've been chained!"

"He has been," Dad said. "Alvin the Treacherous."

The jovial look left Jason's face. "I might have known." He unrolled a sleeve and examined the wrapping, tsking. "Excellent compression, but you need an ointment to get rid of the scars. These have to come off. Stoick, or the ointment won't work."

"Thank you." Dad's face softened. "Can you make sure he looks presentable?"

"You can't give me a beard and forty pounds of muscle, Dad," I replied. The gauze peeled away painfully. "Even wise men can't perform miracles."

"I'm not wise, but I can perform miracles." Jason yanked me towards the pool. The tunic came off with one graceful swipe, but my splash into the pool was far from graceful. I spluttered through cold water. Toothless protested and lunged, but Jason grabbed him with both hands and tossed. The resulting waves forced me to surface.

"Jason, you could have told me the water was Jotun cold!"

"Then you wouldn't have jumped in." He started rubbing my hair. I tried to twist away, but he clung with irritating, amused calm.

"You _pushed _me in!"

"Wrestled you, actually. What a shame you don't have blond hair. You and your beast share too many dark tones, so that your eyes are obscured. These Vikings need a pretty face to focus on tomorrow."

Toothless growled mutinously. I kept struggling. Every part of my body stung with cold or scraped skin. Jason's long fingers combed with patience.

That was how we spent our first evening at a Thing: wrestling with an old Greek over bath-time.


	3. Chapter Two

The scrubbing did not stop with the bathing. After Jason had smeared soapy granules through my hair, he took a large brush and worked on Toothless's scales. My dragon tried to protest, but the long, bristly strokes got to him. He leapt out of the water, shook his scales, and lay down. Jason obliged him by scrubbing. A half-eaten moon sprouted above; the black and blue scales gleamed.

"Traitor," I said with mild irritation. Toothless warbled.

"Don't blame the dragon," Jason replied cheerfully. "Olive oil's hard to get these days, and all reptiles like having their scales rubbed."

"How do you know that?"

"I keep snakes for pets." Jason waved a hand at the brush surrounding the pool. "They're away now because of the Thing, but they also love getting rubbed. Vain little creatures."

He dunked my head to get the granules out. By then I had given up trying to escape this torment, but my nose hadn't. Coughs burned my throat. Mud and salt bubbled. A thick, furry cloth wrapped around my scraped skin.

"Now dry yourself. I need to tend to your arms."

I obeyed. The red marks above each elbow had not faded since that night with Alvin on the boat, even though it had been weeks. They throbbed at night. Jason slathered a yellow, strong-smelling ointment on the most offending bruises.

"What is this gunk?"

"Turmeric root and aloe vera," he responded. "Aloe vera reduces redness and the turmeric gets rid of scars. The turmeric stains quite a bit, so I'm going to wrap them in waterproof bandages. That way you can bathe with no problem."

"No such thing." I grinned at him.

"That's where my miracles come in. A shame your dragon isn't shedding, but we'll make do with these." He brought out long, segmented strips of semi-transparent skin, sewn together with sinew.

Toothless perked up his ears. He peered at the gleaming skin.

"Snake skin," Jason said as he wrapped, tying a knot below each wrist. "From my largest beauties. Waterproof, watertight, and impressive to boot. If you have to roll up your sleeves, one may think they're extra armor. So how are you going to present yourself?"

I stood up as straight as I could, puffing out my chest. A back muscle creaked.

"They'll call you Dragon Conqueror. They'll want you to match their boasts, describe your exploits."

"I'm not a Dragon Conqueror. I'm a Dragon Trainer."

"That's not what THEY think. The other chiefs' opinions matter more than yours," he said. "You DID conquer the Green Death and liberate the Archipelago from raids."

"Not alone." I glanced at Toothless.

"They want to know who made the first leap, who freed a Night Fury and bonded with it. You ARE a conqueror because you conquered the skies for Berk. They'll want to know about the scar on your forehead."

"Alvin gave that to me," I remarked. "Hit me with a sword and threatened to sew my mouth shut."

"Why?"

"I told him I was happy to be a hiccup."

"Come on, you can do better than that. You need the chiefs' sympathy but not their pity, and you need to tell them a good story. Straddle the line between Conqueror and child."

"That doesn't make any sense," I said peevishly, still rubbing. "I think I need a new pair of pants; these are still soaked."

"Of course." He turned to my pack, pulled out spare trousers. "You know the myth of Baldr?"

"All too well."

"Then you know how Frigga feared that Baldr would die, so she extracted vows from all plants and animals except the mistletoe not to harm her child. That turned out well, considering Loki fashioned a mistletoe weapon and helped a blind god aim it." Jason gave a humorless chuckle. He went behind a rock so that I could change in privacy.

"So you think I'm the pretty boy destined to fall because of my arrogance?" I asked sarcastically. "The one that Loki kills out of spite?"

"Not at all," Jason replied; the sound carried across the pool. "The chiefs will see you as the mistletoe."

* * *

I don't know if the other chiefs saw me as a pretty face or a parasitic plant, but their gazes all rested on me when they arrived. Dad had taken his place on Speaker's Rock as the men marched toward the pools. I stood beside him, stiff-legged and clenching an untouched drink. No one smiled.

Evening marched over the crowd. Few men stood out unless they eschewed the traditional helmets. Dad had forced me to bring mine, made from Mom's breastplate. I kept having to push it up. He hadn't noticed the changed bandages.

The Hysteric Tribe favored axes and furs; their leader Norbert swung an axe as if it were a nightstick. He nearly lopped off Mogadon the Meathead's mustache. Jason caught the handle, said some words, and slunk off. Norbert turned his gaze to me. I averted my eyes.

A brawny, blond boy clung to Mogadon's leather train. His teeth chattered, but his muscles did not quiver. Bright blue eyes caught mine, and he gave a cheerful wave. I returned the gesture with my free hand. He smiled more brightly.

"Thuggory, Mogadon's son," Dad whispered. "About your age, been coming to the Thing since he was a tyke. Likes to please his father."

Translation: Thuggory was who I should have been at birth. I bit back a scowl. Fingernails dug into the metal cup.

The men settled for drinks. Jason served mead and ale. Thuggory took a small goblet of honeyed mead, but his father took a large tankard. I refused to sip mine. A headache threatened to burst with the clanging and gulping.

Dad spoke when everyone had drunk. He appealed to their sense of decency and family, talking of the devastation of Berk, how Alvin had burned the village to the ground, that we needed medical equipment.

"We shall help you of course, Stoick!" Mogadon stood. "But we need you to address some rumors first. Alvin has spread word that you refuse to share your dragon knowledge with the other tribes."

Dad made an effort to breathe. "Alvin is an Outcast. He's called Treacherous. His word cannot be trusted."

"But why has your son not appeared before?" An anonymous chief called out. "Why has he not visited our islands on his Night Fury?"

"Why does Berk dominate the skies?" Someone else with a thick blond beard shouted. He slammed his tankard. "Dragons still raid our island!"

The complaints started up. Dad banged his tankard against the Speaking Stone. Growing shadows outlined his fury.

"Dragon riding has been a new addition to Berk," he spoke slowly. "We have a Dragon Academy open to all, but it has taken time to adjust to living with these creatures. They are not chariots to ride into battle; they are magnificent, imperfect beasts."

Thank Thor my father could say what I was thinking. My throat would have turned to raging ice. And thank Thor Toothless was in the stables, enjoying a fish feast with Thornado. If he had heard "imperfect beasts . . ."

"Then prove it!" The blond chief cried. "Let our children attend the Dragon Academy and we shall provide aid!"

"Do we have promises of aid then?" Dad bellowed back. "Or do you seek to only benefit yourselves?"

A scraping chair. Thuggory stood up, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Everyone stopped to turn at him.

"The Meathead tribe will pledge aid," he said; sweat trembled on a whiskered lip. "I will attend the Dragon Academy on behalf of my people, and the Meatheads will provide the medicine and supplies."

Dad beamed at him. "Excellent! Do we have more volunteers?"

More chairs scraped back. Chiefs scrambled to volunteer their sons for dragon riding. Dad started negotiating in calmer tones. I bit the inside of my cheeks; Meatheads did not have the right to look perfectly CHEERFUL and respected.

"What about Mildew, the man that you banished?" The blond chief continued.

I placed a hand to my head; great gods, why this? Why now?

"We are settling that tomorrow," Dad frowned at him. "When Mildew himself shows up. Now does the next speaker want to emerge?"

Norbert of the Hysterics stood up. Dad and I slid past him; my sleeve brushed his fur. When I looked up, Norbert's eyes held frost and rage mixed into black spheres.

My headache got worse. I murmured to Dad that I was going to check on Toothless, left my drink at our table, and scurried on the abandoned dirt path.

"Hey Hiccup, wait up!" Thuggory had pushed back his chair and followed. Norbert shot him a withering look.

I sighed. "What's up, Thuggory?"

He grabbed my hand in two sweaty palms and shook it. "It's an honor to meet the Dragon Conqueror of Berk. They said you were ten feet tall!"

"Dragon Trainer," I corrected him before remembering what Jason had mentioned. Oops.

"You're too modest," he said. "Do you know any other Viking who could bring down a Night Fury or the Green Death?"

"No," I admitted.

"Now I do; I know you! There's so much I want to learn!"

He asked questions. I answered, trying not to notice his broad shoulders and toned muscles. Perhaps if I had spent time listening for footsteps instead of blocking out envy- I was JEALOUS of Thuggory, I won't deny it- then we wouldn't have been surrounded. Perhaps, when I saw the men lashing Toothless with ropes in front of us that my mouth wouldn't have dropped open and Thuggory wouldn't have had to shout for me.

My left hand had been rubbing at my temples; tension forced my brain to clump. Trying to handle that and recalling dragon facts robbed my senses of logical thinking. A hooded Viking held Toothless's jaws so he couldn't roar a warning, but his eyes widened on seeing us. Our eyes widened as well. Then we heard footsteps cutting a circle around us.

Thuggory whirled and swung his fists. Fat lot of good it did; an unpolished hammer knocked him cold. I would have shouted in alarm if six hands hadn't tackled my shoulders and forced me to the hard dirt. Two more hands tied a cloth against my cheeks and pressed it between my teeth; I tried to bite them. The fingers withdrew.

These things happen when you're distracted. After all, people don't attack chiefs' sons or their dragons on Frigga's Promise. People don't knock you to the ground and stuff your mouth with coarse cloth, holding you down as a third Viking holds a glowing brand.

The men seemed to know that Toothless would struggle harder, for they pinned their body weight to him. The metal serpent came closer. My muffled screams became louder as I recognized the permanent symbol.

They were going to make me a Viking slave.


	4. Chapter Three

**Hiccup's in a bit of a pickle, and for the first time in ages it's not his fault. But he doesn't have an escape plan this time . . .**

**Stratoc- :D Was reading a bit of TvTropes, including the complaint that ropes and chains should leave burns and numbness but never do. Dragon Prince is a huge case of reality hitting Hiccup hard, showing the consequences of what happened in Dragon Conqueror. Hence, the other tribes are worried that Berk knows how to train dragons, and some are resorting to underhanded means to get what they want**

Time slowed down; the hand holding the glowing brand took patient moments to approach. All the Vikings wore oily black hoods and thick leather gloves; the ones pinning me down breathed heavily. There were three on each side, each pressing a thick fist. The few torches they carried shed little light.

This was normally the time when I came up with a last-minute escape plan, stalled for crucial minutes or found a logical exit. The problem was that I couldn't take my way out the situation, my dragon was being similarly restrained, and for the first time in ages having a scrawny body became a burden. These hooded Vikings had attacked with efficient accuracy, as if they had become familiar with my fighting style. Or rather, my style to avoid fights.

A rough hand rolled up the left sleeve, marked a scaly area below the wrist. The other arms holding me down gripped so that I could not struggle loose. I may as well have been a mayfly trapped in honey.

"Can you get this armor off?" One of them muttered . Bony fingers tugged at the snakeskin knots. Good Jason, tying them tightly.

"Just put the Slavemark and let's be off; it will burn through."

The situation registered. Toothless struggled harder. Thuggory lay a few feet away, eyelids twitching toward wakefulness. A rogue stood over him, hammer and sword at the boy's throat. I did not doubt the Meathead heir's fighting prowess, but he wouldn't be much help when awake. Time was another problem. Even if the other chiefs heard the commotion they wouldn't make it. No one could remove the Slavemark once it was given, and the men who gave it would become my owners. There was a reason Vikings saved the brand for their foreign enemies and why Berk never used it.

Calm dignity took over; the muffled screams died. I breathed and braced myself. If they were going to make me a slave, I would make an effort to not scream during the branding, and I would rebel as best I could when in chains. My own fault for not being suspicious.

They had slipped a knotted, unwashed cloth between my teeth. My tongue explored the thick knot, trying to push it aside. Not that it mattered.

Heat pressed against my left arm in a sinister, hissing spiral; the snakeskin shriveled. I winced. It was not the scalding, skin-scarring heat that I had expected, but rather like the burn that one received from a Terror's distant fireball. Hissing started up from behind the men.

"What's that?" The standing men stood like black shadows. Their torches illuminated a ground covered with glittering scales. The scales surged forward. It was the men's turn to scream. Toothless managed to snake off his cowering attackers . As it once had on an Outcast ship, his screech seemed to fill the air.

"Someone help!" Jason called; he cupped his hands to shout. "Boys are in trouble! Slavers!"

_Yeah_, I thought faintly, arm throbbing with the burn. _Jason mentioned keeping snakes as pets._

The men who weren't screaming cursed; rippling scales soon encased them like hissing vines. A large viper came between me and my captors on the left side; they shrieked and withdrew.

"Hiccup!" Dad's voice came interspersed with Mogadon's concerned cry for Thuggory. Thudding footsteps came from behind.

My right arm was free; the men had retreated as an army of snakes covered them. I used it to pull the knotted cloth down. I opened my mouth to scream something, maybe, "I'm over here!" or "Get away from me, you greasy louts!", but nothing came out. The knot had turned my mouth to pink sandpaper.

The snake turned to me and bared long, two-inch fangs. Toothless gave a warning screech.

"Apologies in advance, Hiccup," Jason called in a lower voice. "It's the only way."

The shriveled bandages opened to a blob of black snake on skin; it still burned. Before I could slide away, the snake's fangs had sunk into the Slavemark.

* * *

By the time I realized that I hadn't fainted with fever or foamed at the mouth, Jason had already come forward with a thick gauze pad and placed it over the bite.

"What a naughty girl!" he chided the viper. "You can't bite everything that looks like you, Miss Vanity!"

The viper gave a sarcastic hiss and slithered away. Toothless made a half-hearted effort to chase her, but she joined the throng that had encased the rogue Vikings in shimmering coils.

"Hiccup." Dad's voice revealed a brutal fear that I had never heard before. "Are you all right?"

I managed a nod and gestured to my throat. Dad didn't understand. He watched my bleeding arm. Jason had pressed the gauze to the snakebite.

"Just a slash at the veins," he said loudly. "Going to need to go back to my hut to tend to it, make sure you don't bleed like a pig. Where's your dragon, Stoick?"

Dad paused; he had been on the verge of yanking me from Jason. "Thornado? Shouldn't he be here with Toothless?"

Jason looked up and surveyed the stables. "If I'm not mistaken . . . he wasn't here during the fight, unless they had subdued him first. You pinned a Thunderdrum easily, Stoick; perhaps-"

"Will you take care of him?" Dad asked harshly.

"I will," Jason said, serious now. "Check the water; I heard a splash earlier."

Dad nodded. He took off at a sprint; several other chiefs followed him. Mogadon was leaning over Thuggory, cradling his son. Thuggory opened his eyes but took his time to stir.

"This way, Hiccup. Keep pressing that gauze." Jason led me down a narrower path, one bordered by tall grasses. Toothless followed and knocked down the grasses. Several men attempted to do the same.

"Not you," Jason shouted. "He's in a bit of shock, so give him time to recover."

"What happened?" These were the first hoarse words I could murmur.

"What happens every time someone attempts to fight on Frigga's Island; we have serpents for a reason. You were lucky Hemlock had been milked this evening."

"Hemlock?"

"Your serpent admirer." Jason shook his head. "Doesn't like seeing a snake prettier than her, so she attacked. Gets it from her father's side. I removed the venom from her fangs this evening, so the worst she gave you was a bad pair of cuts."

I gave him a look. I wanted to say, "You said you were sorry about the bite before it happened. You knew she was going to do that" but my throat only processed three or four words. Toothlesss nudged me. Jason seemed to know what I was going to ask anyway.

"I said it was the only way. I had to make sure no one saw the Slavemark."

"You saw," I whispered.

"And you think I'm going to tell?" He demanded. "You think I'd condemn a chief's son to thankless slavery, the same fate I suffered as a child?" Rage turned his face into a grieving warrior. "I'd sooner challenge Norbert the Nutjob to a duel, or wear olives as earrings."

"They'll see eventually." I didn't mean to object, but there was the obvious. "Can't be removed."

"Not without a little assistance." We had reached his hut, a one-story shack with holes in the thatch. "I found a way."

"What?"

"Inside. You'll see." He ushered me onto a rough, unswept floor. I coughed at the dust. Toothless's entrance squished us together. "You cannot tell a soul about this; if people knew the Slavemark can be removed, they'll do crazy things with it."

"Even Dad?" I whispered.

"Even your father," he said. That's when he lit the lamp.


	5. Chapter Four

**Thank you for all the favorites! Jason has saved Hiccup, but our favorite Viking still has the Slavemark. This is quite a precarious situation . . .**

**Stratoc- Indeed; talk about a deux ex machina, though Jason's rescue comes at a price. And thank you!**

When the lamp lit, the walls gleamed. Toothless shuddered. I covered my eyes with my right hand. When the glare faded, I peered carefully. Jars glistened from numerous shelves. The coarse wood boards jutted at perpendicular angles.

"The Slavemark's craftsmanship is clever, for its intent," Jason said darkly. "Most slaves would try to slice the skin off their wrists, which causes the veins to bleed out, and, well, you know the rest."

If my mouth weren't dry, I would have asked how a slaver would profit from so many suicides. Instead, I pointed to my throat and croaked. Toothless, expecting sarcasm, nudged from behind.

"Of course!" Jason removed a flask from his hip and passed it forward. As I gulped the cold water, he led me by the left hand to the farthest shelf. The large glass beaker there held an orange-tinged liquid. Small bubbles and root flecks were trapped in its center.

"This will do the trick," he said.

"What is it?" I wiped my mouth. Jason was still gripping my left hand, so the motion with the right was clunky.

"An ointment I've made after centuries of trying to remove my own Slavemark," he replied. "You don't see a snake ornamenting MY skin, do you?"

"No. But then why . . ."

"Stay on Frigga's Promise? Habit, and an oath that I swore." Jason shook his head. He unscrewed the jar. "After spending several hundred years as a slave, people would miss me if I left. Everyone knows who and what I am, and the world I knew as a child has vanished. I can't serve kings anymore or hunt mythical creatures or please goddesses. Frigga needs a human representative on the island to keep peace when others will not, anyway, and she gave me sanctuary. I owe her my life."

"You've talked to Frigga?" I couldn't help but sound eager.

"Aye. Lovely goddess, kind mother. She didn't deserve to lose her child to mistletoe."

The ointment tingled with cold bubbles. Toothless sniffed at it suspiciously. His eyes widened, and he shot forward.

"Toothless!" I spun to block his tackling head. "What's gotten into you, bud?"

He snarled at Jason, who had already smeared a handful on the half-peeled gauze. Blood crusted my wrist.

"Easy, Toothless, it's not dangerous," he said soothingly. "Besides, you can't take it off now or he'll bleed to death." More leathery gauze to press the orange, bubbling pace to the cut.

"Not dangerous?" I asked. My left arm pulled away. "What's in this ointment?"

"Turmeric mainly," he said, eyes unblinking.

"And?"

"Hemlock's provided the other ingredient; that's why I milk her."

Oh gods. My head spun. Toothless and I made to retreat, but Jason's arms clenched mine like crab pincers. The gauze started to burn.

"You're going to have a rough time of it for the next couple of days," he said grimly. "I wouldn't run and speed your heart rate. The Slavemark penetrates several layers of skin that the ointment will burn off. I made the venom mild so it won't kill you, but some will get into your bloodstream."

"Venom? Bloodstream?" I squeaked. My heart pounded without the intended running. Why hadn't I listened to Toothless?

"Only way to burn off the Mark completely. I'm sorry, Hiccup, but you don't want to live the life of a Viking slave."

My heart kept pounding, and the burn increased to a stinging welt. Toothless let me lean against him as the dizziness intensified.

* * *

I can't remember much of what happened over the next few days. Or rather, I can, but I can't differentiate between what hallucinations the diluted venom caused and what actually happened. My father's voice would be murmuring my name one moment and yelling at my stupidity in the next, or Hemlock would be wrapped around my wrist for another bite while the straw bed turned to into a horde of writhing reptiles.

Worse fits followed. The hooded Vikings would return, holding scythes and a thread of life to snap. My friends would surround me, only to grow feathers and fly off. My voice would cry out for them to wait, to stay and keep me company. Feathers would lodge in my throat and burn, as Alvin laughed. His neck had not clotted from the slashes, and blood would spill onto the swirling feathers. I may have been screaming in my sleep.

Only sweat, Toothless's protective warbles, and my father's warm hands remained constant. Fever forced perspiration to soak the air, to fill every pore with choking heat. Any coolness from turning my head fizzled away like ice on coals. Toothless's wings would fan me, hissing at the shadows that hit the hut floor.

Dad's warmth was welcome however; he would cradle my head as if gently easing a jaundiced babe onto a healer's lap. The harsh words only appeared when the hands went away, so perhaps Dad was shouting at a wooden beam before returning. When not harsh words, he would be asking if I could hear him, begging me to return. Every time I tried to answer, fever clogged my mouth again.

Reality did not return with a clean sweep, as if waking from a nightmare. Little signs appeared, to notify me of what people were actually there and what were stray poltergeists that preyed on the infirm. Dad's hands came into focus, and I heard low conversations that seemed too practical for delusion after dreaming of drunk dragons.

"You think he'll be safer away from here, Jason?"

"I can't prove it, but Norbert the Nutjob is known for keeping slaves. He rarely comes to Things because of that. It's quite a coincidence that he started speaking at the same time your son was attacked."

"So Alvin's madness has become an epidemic."

"It's not madness; it's war greed. They see your son as a weapon, a prized mistletoe, rather than as a person. First who gets the weapon wins the war."

"But there IS no war."

"Not yet."

"Gods. It was lucky they didn't take Hiccup away from the island."

"They couldn't have." Jason's voice became stiff. "Norbert and others have tried before, but Frigga will not allow kidnapping on her isle. Attempting to mark him on the island was brilliant, because even if rescued the other Vikings would see him as a slave and argue over owning him."

Dad's tone became lamentful. "Why wasn't I careful? Odin's beard, why wasn't I?"

"Because unlike these men, you have honor."

The voices faded with footsteps. I opened my eyes. Clean hut, patch of sky shining through with stars. Dry mouth, rinsed with bile and salt. Toothless's yellow eyes peering at mine intently.

Left wrist rested against my forehead, bandaged opened. No two-dimensional snake or snake bite. Only a square of red skin remained, throbbing. I touched the spot gingerly; Toothless nudged my hand from the red skin. He licked my cooling forehead. I managed a laugh and pushed his head away.

Night chill shot through the hut. So did realization. The Slavemark was gone, but the slave-making Vikings weren't. They still wanted a Dragon Conqueror to own.


	6. Chapter Five

**I'm pleased with the reception the last chapter got. :D Thank you, everyone.**

**wolf girl811- Ee, glad to have reeled you in! Probably going to be mid-July before the story is concluded, but I will continue to pile on awesome chapters.**

**Stratoc- He did. Snake venom has a tendency to cause that since it's potent. **

**HolyFurryFish- Thanks so much! The twists and turns, as well as writing about what happened to Hiccup on Frigga's Promise, were difficult to write, so I'm glad you appreciate them.**

With fever dripping away slowly like beads of honey from a frozen hive, nauseous sensations that swept over my body, and knowledge that other Viking chiefs wanted to claim me as their slave, it was small wonder that I could not muster the strength to attend the rest of the Thing. Toothless guarded the small hut as I struggled to sit up and brood properly. When I had energy, I argued with Jason while trying to thank him.

"I appreciate what you did Jason, but you could've warned me about the fever dreams before giving the ointment."

"But then you wouldn't have accepted the ointment. Besides, I must do Frigga's work on her isle, so it was satisfying to do it."

Not the response I was hoping for. He seemed to realize it.

"I didn't mean for you to get hurt, Hiccup."

"No, you didn't," I responded dryly. "It's perfectly normal for chiefs' sons to get injured on a peaceful island."

"It's better if you stay away from the talks. Most of them revolve around you; the slavers like Norbert are pushing the fact that you were attacked as an argument in favor of giving you the Mark again, this time permanently. I've never seen your father so angry."

"Even better." Then I realized what he had said. "Can they do that?"

"No. I won't allow it. _Frigga _wouldn't allow it." Jason wiped my forehead with a cool cloth. "They may get the notion, however to attempt the same stunt off Frigga's Promise and away from chances of rescue. Wouldn't put it past Norbert, if it were his men."

I pushed the cloth away. " There's no need for that; I'm not invalid. What about the hooded Vikings?"

"Most were slaves themselves; the ones who could talk were their overseers, telling them what tasks to carry out." Jason peered into my eyes. "Hiccup, do you think you could identify the overseers, in case they're Alvin's men?"

I thought. "Probably not. They all look the same when they surround you in the dead of night. But if you want me to look at them-"

"When you can stand up and meet people's eyes." His tone became gentler. "What happened wasn't your fault, Hiccup; it shouldn't have happened at all."

"But it did." I spoke without self-pity. "What am I going to do, Jason?"

"Leave it to me. Some letters have come that may help." He stood. Toothless took his post, using his wings to provide shade.

* * *

If not for Toothless, warbling for an evening flight, I would have lain down and succumbed to lethargy. As he had once helped me adjust to a metal prosthetic, he helped me learn to walk again, to stumble onto dry grass. People would watch, other Viking chiefs who had heard the snakebite story. No one mentioned the Slavemark or the red patch of skin. Jason and Dad wanted it to stay that way, but the chiefs knew about the slavers.

Sometimes Norbert would come to watch; he'd fiddle with his ax and watch me put one foot in front of the other like a daft toddler. On those days Toothless would curl around me and hiss; he had overheard Dad and Jason's conversations. I'd force myself to meet the Hysteric chief's eyes. Only that made him stride in the other direction.

Astrid and the other dragon riders arrived by ship and had come to check in on me. That was a day when melancholy and shame mixed like honey and sour milk. She had started her usual, "You're not supposed to get hurt" rant with a punch. The jolt that shot up and down my arm, however, was not normal; I actually yelled.

Astrid recoiled. Not just because the twins and Fishlegs had come to look on hearing the explosive sound.

"Did I hurt you?" she placed a gentler hand on the shoulder. I winced and took shallow breaths.

"A bit more than usual. Have you been practicing your swing?"

"Not _that_ much."

"Does this mean Hiccup can't run the Dragon Academy anymore?" Snotlout asked. "Because if he can't-"

"Then I'm in charge of the Academy, and you know it." Astrid reached under my shirt sleeve and felt. Her eyes widened, and she withdrew.

"You're bruised all over this side! What happened?"

"I don't know," I told her honestly. "I guess snake bites leave different kinds of marks on the body."

"Generally the venom's dissolving toxins should've killed you by stopping blood flow," Fishlegs said, "unless someone managed to give you antivenom."

Thank Odin Fishlegs memorized scientific facts related to reptiles; his knowledge added plausibility to the snakebite story.

"We really gotta try it," Tuffnut said; Ruffnut nodded in agreement. "Where can we find these vipers?"

"Tuff, you really don't want to," I staggered to my feet. Toothless offered his head as a support. "Not unless you want to end up bedridden and hallucinating."

"Come on, the best nightmares are the ones that leave you shaking in mortal terror." Tuffnut made a shivering gesture to demonstrate. "I think I'm going to find me a serpent."

I rolled my eyes at his and Ruffnut's receding backs. To think only weeks ago they had terrorized an Outcast ship.

"Let them have their fun," Astrid said. "They've had to hold back from plenty of destruction."

"Are things on Berk the same then?"

"We've gotten some medical supplies from the Meatheads, but not enough to help everyone. The dragons have been showing us different herbs that we can use; Stormfly found a leaf that makes great bruise balm."

"And it makes these gorgeous muscles gleam." Snotlout demonstrated.

"I've started a new chapter in the Book of Dragons about those herbs," Fishlegs broke in. "Gothi's starting to store them for the winter."

"That's good," I sighed. This was why the Dragon Academy was important: not to have means to defend ourselves from enemies, but to learn how to work with winged reptiles and adapt them to Viking society. "Why are we the only sane Vikings in the Archipelago?"

"Because we're the only ones who don't think about fighting all the time," Astrid answered. "Thuggory, the Meathead chief's son. came to register for the Academy. What a scaredy-cat."

"What? Thuggory scared?"

"It's not even of a dragon species," she said with disgust. "He can't stay on a dragon because- get this- he's scared of heights. A Viking at the Dragon Academy. Scared. of. the. sky."

"The poor guy," Fishlegs muttered. "Even riding Meatlug gave him the willies."

"That could be a problem," I admitted. "Guess I'll have to give him private tutoring."

"What are you thinking?"

"A ride on Toothless with both of us securely strapped in, his hands tied so he can't cling to me for dear life-"

She pulled back a punch. "_I_ clung to you for dear life when I first rode Toothless."

Toothless gave a deep-throated chuckle. Astrid sneaked a glare at him.

I patted my dragon. It was petty, but knowing that Thuggory couldn't handle heights broke through the melancholy. By Odin's beard, I was becoming more like my father every day.

"I'll think of something, Astrid. Curing acrophobia for dragon riding is something a dragon trainer should specialize in."

"You may want to hold that thought, Hiccup."

We started. Jason, Dad and Gobber had come on, Dad looking extremely grim. Gobber, the one who had spoken, held a pair of gloves, ones I had made with Nadder fangs and tight straps. I received them with a shaky left hand.

"The chiefs have decided what to do with you, since some suspect that you received . . ' Dad trailed off on seeing Astrid, Snotlout and Fishlegs.

"What to do with me?" My feet staggered again, and I clung to Toothless. The gloves clattered to the hut floor. "Dad, I didn't do anything wrong; why is my fate in the chiefs' hands?"

"I know you didn't do anything wrong, but they don't care," he said, rubbing his forehead. "Odin knows how long I had to convince them not to mark you, but they found another way. The Scots have sent a tentative peace treaty; their monarchs want Hamish II's heir to come as a diplomat to their castle DunBroch to start negotiations."

"The heir to Hamish II? That means . . . me? Dad, you didn't."

"He didn't. I convinced them. It's for the best, Hiccup," Jason said. "This way no other chief, Alvin or otherwise, can get their hands on you; the Scots are a jealously protective and armed bunch. If you are gone, people will forget the novelty of a Dragon Conqueror, and they'll leave you alone when you come back, especially if you succeed with the negotiations."

My mouth opened. Astrid seemed to realize what was going on through my head.

"Chief Stoick, you can't agree," she said. "The Scots will kill him if anything goes wrong."

"I didn't agree," he grunted. "Neither did Mogadon; you think I would send my son into enemy territory? But we were outvoted. Sometimes democracy is a curse."

"We don't have to listen," I said. "Berk needs me; _you _need me, Dad. I'm a Dragon Trainer, not a people person."

"We do need you, Hiccup." Gobber reached out his hook hand in a placating gesture. "But those slavers will come back, and they won't let you escape a second time. Taming the Scots can't be worse than taming a Boneknapper or fighting the Green Death."

"This isn't a fight with a giant beast, Gobber," Dad said. "This is dealing with men who use society to benefit themselves. The chiefs voted for Hiccup to be the diplomat on the pretense of his success with dragons, but they want to make sure that no Viking has access to special dragon knowledge."

"_We_ have access to dragon knowledge," Fishlegs pointed out. "That's what the Academy is for."

"They don't just want Hiccup for the knowledge. They want the novelty," Jason repeated, "of owning and conquering a Dragon Conqueror."

"Dragon _Trainer_," I said with gritted teeth.

The sunlight became harsh; I had to shield my eyes. Many things had changed with my arrival to the Thing, but none so striking at the helpless look on my father's face, or the despondency rushing through the room. Only Jason looked calm. Astrid's hands felt cold as she stroked my shoulders.

"Isn't this like sending a sheep to live with wolves, to protect it from rabid foxes?" I asked. "What if the Scots want to learn about dragons as well?"

Jason's solemnity grew serious.

"There are no dragons in DunBroch, Hiccup. And wolves at least know to care for each other."


	7. Chapter Six

**Stratoc- Thanks, as always :D. Hiccup manages to get between a rock and a hard place, when he'd rather be away from both.**

There was no help for it; like it or not, I was traveling into Scots territory. Jason had ensured that I wouldn't become enslaved and passed from chief to chief for dragon knowledge. Instead, the Scots would cut me down the minute war brewed across the ocean. It was an ideal solution.

My friends reacted in their typical ways: Snotlout promised that he would cure Thuggory of his acrophobia with Hookfang's help, Astrid withdrew and punched the island's dead trees, the twins took five minutes to process that I was leaving before returning to their punching games, and Fishlegs shook with nervousness.

"I've heard that the Scots have four clans, and they united to drive off the raiding Vikings," he whispered, plate jiggling with chicken. "They're under the rule of a strict queen whose hair flows to the ground; she makes all the decisions. If you get her to favor you, then she'll protect you."

We were getting food from one of the tents; I took only a slice of smoked fish. When the fever had vanished, it had taken my appetite with it. Dad would look at my paltry helpings and pile on more bread and haddock; I'd usually feed them to Toothless unless he growled. Then I'd have to eat. Wouldn't be a problem in Dunbroch, I wagered; the Scots would be doing their best to starve me.

Toothless was following now, not letting me out of sight. I was able to walk without him, but his gaze turned hard when strangers approached. He had actually forced me to wear the dragon teeth gloves all the time, dragging them onto my lap each morning. He coiled around me and Fishlegs as we conversed in low tones. Thornado stalked the island with grouchy stomps; the hooded Vikings had tied heavy stones around his middle and tossed him in the ocean. Fortunately Thunderdrums were water dragons, but neither Dad or Thornado had appreciate the freezing currents or chafing ropes.

"How do I earn a queen's favor?" I whispered back. Norbert brooded in a corner, watching us. A smoldering torch flickered beside him.

"Do whatever she tells you, unless it's immoral. Then you should desert. I've heard that the Scots have as many brains among them as the Vikings, so you can impress her with your intellect and wisdom."

I shrugged. "If I'm lucky."

"Hiccup, you saw peace at a time when most of us were thinking war," Fishlegs said. "That has to count for something."

"Some peace." I nudged my plate towards Norbert. "Dragons aren't the same as people; they may have a history, but they don't do things for manipulative purposes. They don't tackle you in the dead of night and pin you to the ground. . ." I trailed off as Norbert's gaze hardened. "Sorry, Fishlegs. I get what you're trying to say: don't sell myself short with the Scots. But I can't appear dangerous either."

"Promote yourself as a peacemaker," he said. "Show them the nonviolent things dragons do, like keep you company on the stormy nights or licking your toes. At worst they'll see you as an idealist and try to make you cynical. Or they'll laugh."

I considered.

"You've been laughed at before, Hiccup, and that hasn't stopped you. This time it may save your life."

* * *

Only two unpleasant incidents aroused from being able to walk: having to identify my attackers and confronting one of them on our long-ship. At least with the identification Jason let me view them from a distance while they were shackled in a makeshift fortress. It was evening, so they were settling down.

"The one with two fingers was with Alvin," I whispered. "Name's Slaughter. He tried to grab me and caught hold of these gloves." I indicated the dragon teeth surrounding my wrists.

"Noted," Jason said. "He was the one giving the men orders, so he was in charge. That muddles any accusation we may have against Norbert, for neither Slaughter nor his companion will say who hired them."

"What about the others?"

"They can't talk. Tongues were cut out." Jason indicated with pulling fingers. "Common among slaves ordered to do dirty work, so they can't betray their masters, or cheeky ones. Probably the first thing they would have done to you if they had gotten you off the island."

"But that doesn't make sense- I heard them talking that night, and they need me to tell them how to train dragons-"

"It's amazing what one can communicate without words, and the slaves who could speak ripped their tongues to shreds," Jason said darkly. "It's what they're brainwashed to do if captured. I would give details of the procedure, but you seem to have enough nightmares to fret over."

We stared at the shackled men. I could only muster pity for the silent ones, chewing at their dry lips. I had let Slaughter go, hadn't I, when Alvin had gone down? And he still chose to attack and impress a Slavemark on my skin. Given his mutinous expression, he wanted to try it again.

"Can you recognize the other overseer?"

I stared into the man's indifferent eyes. Fear stole over me: a long arm wrapped around my middle, another clamped over my nose and mouth, flames falling and air getting squeezed out. He had been wearing a bandanna then, but his malicious eyes hadn't been covered.

"Also Alvin's man," I said shortly. "Good at knocking people out slowly and painfully."

Jason didn't press the matter. We walked away. Toothless hissed at the fortress before following us. A numb, cold feeling swept over me.

"Hiccup, I know I caused you necessary pain, but in Dunbroch I want you to do something for me," Jason said.

"Will it involve snake venom?" I asked bitterly. He laughed.

"No, but it's just as poisonous. Hamish wanted to broker peace with the Scots and Vikings; he thought that together the two kingdoms could create more than destroy."

"Do we deserve that peace?" I indicated at the shack shrinking in the distance. "What kind of people are we that attack our own children, cut the tongues of cheeky slaves and use them as pawns?"

"Speaking as a slave who was once a child, you're people," Jason said. "And when I say you're like Hamish, you're able to inspire the right kind of action instead of these malevolent ones."

"Only on a dragon."

Toothless purred in agreement.

"At least try to finish Hamish's work," Jason said. "It's what he would have wanted. Make a genuine effort to broker peace."

We stared at sinking horizon. Even though I didn't know it, in a day's time Slaughter and his companion would escape and stow away on our ships. In a month's time I'd be on another ship, praying that I could suck up to a foreign tyrant and desert with Toothless if I couldn't.

"I'll do my best," I said. "But no promises. People aren't trustworthy like dragons."

Toothless nestled his head between my palms. He didn't have to speak to promise that he would help me try, or help me escape if things went wrong. I let his cool scales calm me down.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Stratoc- Indeed, that Outcast will be back. **

A Viking should always fear a stupid enemy. More importantly, they should fear a stupid enemy who learns from his mistakes.

It was our last day on Frigga's Promise; we had loaded the boats with supplies. The chiefs, as a consolation for sending me to make peace with the Scots, had pledged a small amount of aid from each of their tribes. Mogadon had already sent a ship of herbs and dried foods with Thuggory's arrival.

Thornado had used his large jaws to transport barrels of ale and medicine onto the largest longship. Toothless and I had offered our services, but Dad had rebuffed us.

"We don't want you and Toothless attracting attention." He jerked his head in the direction of the other ships. "There's been too much focus on you."

I glared at him. Dad strode off, brows furrowing. Astrid shot a sympathetic look from where she and Stormfly gathered barrels.

"It wasn't my idea to be the center of attention," I muttered. Toothless mimicked my glare.

Our ships left first; they trailed seafoam behind them. I would follow with Toothless when evening came, according to Dad. Thornado and any remaining dragon riders would escort us to Berk.

"Don't take it personally," Gobber had whispered in lieu of goodbye. "He thinks you've been through enough already without accepting gifts from two-faced chiefs. We'll see you on the other side."

Dad had also fretted about my health. Every minute he had kept scanning me, as if looking for another blemish to pick at. If not for the lack of privacy that surrounded a chief, he would keep checking the red spot on my arm. It was actually a relief when he had focused on the ship loading.

Morning passed slowly, like a worm crawling to a bowl of sugary water. In the afternoon, I had more excitement: locate the twins. Toothless and I circled the small island, spyglass pressed against my face. It was a windy day that promised to blow in clouds. Thornado covered the southern side of the island, and I covered the north. The other chiefs' boats gatheredagainst the thin docks. Norbert's ships were sleek and oiled, built for long distance, but the Murderous tribe went for a rounder, more pleasing look. I didn't dare see what ornaments decorated the Berserker fleet.

"Odd," I told Toothless. "The talks are over, but there seem to be more ships than ever."

Toothless returned my suspicious glance. We saw strange, sharp-edged contraptions whirling on Norbert's decks, some muffled under thick tarps. Sun glinted on polished metal and ticking objects.

Norbert himself marched and turned to look at us. He kept his mouth closed but eyes open with amazement. The rest of his crew followed suit. Mildew was with them, tight-lipped. Norbert waved at us to come down. Whether there were silent slaves below deck I cannot tell, but neither Toothless nor I wished to find out. I gave the pedal a sharp nudge so that we curved away. The sleek ships faded.

"We probably just broke some ancient Viking etiquette." My tone was bright for the first time in days. "We'll have to pay him buckets of smoked eel."

Toothless put on speed. The twins had scrambled by the shrubs on the island's far side, combing the few shreds of grass for snakes. Ruffnut had tied some frilly grass thread bows around her brother's helmet; he hadn't noticed. Toothless screeched to get their Zippleback's attention.

"You're not going to find snakes there," I said as I landed. "They come out when they want to." Or when the island was under attack.

"But where's the fun in that?" Ruffnut rolled on her back and looked to the sky. "I want to get a cool snakebite to show off."

"And I want the deranged nightmares," Tuffnut said. "The Star Vantage point isn't helping now."

"Here. Let me help." Ruffnut punched him in his forehead. He grunted with pleasure.

Ye gods, I smiled on seeing this. I smiled! It felt good to get annoyed about something mundane, something harmless for Berk Vikings.

"I'm really going to miss this," I said. "Listening to you two."

"Nah you won't," Ruffnut said. "And why would you miss it? They aren't really going to send you off."

"The chief got mad 'cause you've been kidnapped twice," Tuffnut called out. "He's probably going to throw a hernia if you really leave."

"Guys." I stepped closer to them. "You don't 'throw a hernia,' and I really am leaving. I may not come back."

Tuffnut froze. Then he rolled to his side.

"Buzzkill," Ruffnut sang unhappily. We stared at the waves eating away the beach sand. The sun took its time to sink, as if weighed down by the gloom hanging in the air.

More ships drifted around the isle, looking for places to dock. Anchors splashed into shallow sandbars. It felt as if we were trapped in a wooden barrel.

"You should've seen that empty shack," Tuffnut started again as the sky turned orange. Grass pressed against his mouth. "Belch and Barf knocked it down easily. So much for metal housing."

"Empty shack?"

"The one where those horrible hoodies were," Ruffnut said. "Now they don't have a home on the island anymore."

Thoughts clicked together. Toothless and I jolted. A memory from the early morning came to me, Jason's bitter words as he had checked my arm:

_"Norbert has offered money for the men from the shack since no slave-owning chief has claimed them. I offered the slaves sanctuary and the two Outcasts a chance at redemption if they betrayed their master. I have not heard a response from those that could talk."_

"Oh gods," I said. "We have to get going. Toothless!"

"But it's not dark yet!" Ruffnut protested.

I mounted my dragon. "Dad didn't want me coming with them because he knew the ship would get attacked. We're only safe on Frigga's Promise, but not once off it, and these Vikings aren't honorable. Night Furies aren't seen at night, that's why Dad wanted us to follow later. They only have three dragons defending them!"

"Uh, what was that, Hiccup?" Tuffnut asked. "Too many words."

"The Berk ships are under attack, with less than half the dragons for defense. We have to help them." Toothless rose. "Are you coming, or are you going to keep snake hunting?"

They actually had to think about that. I tapped my fingers against the saddle. Toothless growled at their Zippleback, who was also resting in the grass.

"Fine, we're coming," Ruffnut said. "But you owe us a snake!"

We hovered for a moment. Then Thornado arrived, eyes narrowed on seeing us leave. I nudged Toothless's pedal and we sped higher. The ships shrunk but remained as threatening. Jason, watching us from the hill, gave a two-fingered salute. He mouthed something that the wind carried to us:

_"Gods be with you, all of them."_

That was another thing I would miss in Scotland; having people I could rely on. When I reminded them to be reliable.

* * *

Thornado tried to stop us from leaving, but Toothless wasn't called a Night Fury for nothing, We soared past the Thunderdrum and into thick cloud cover. He screeched and headed after us.

"Should we be worried about those ships?" Fishlegs asked, once he and the twins had caught had also stayed behind to do research on the Scots. "They seem to be following us."

"Maybe they're playing Follow the Leading Dragon," Ruffnut said. "I know I'd do it if I had a big ship."

"They were waiting for us to leave the island," I said. "Attacking me there didn't help, since attacks can't happen on Frigga's Promise." That was why Norbert had beckoned for me to land on his deck; his men were probably ready to raise the anchor and throw the nets.

"But they signed a peace treaty. They came to an agreement!" Fishlegs cried as we dove higher into an explosion of pink sun-beams. We seemed to race the growing darkness.

"Isn't signing that supposed to be important? It's not like we can write easily." Tuffnut added, rubbing his eyes.

"They're just letters," I said in a hard voice. "Letters and runes that can be ignored. Norbert or any other chief could claim that they shot me down by accident, and there's no telling what could happen once Toothless and I are caught."

Fishlegs looked alarmed at my ferocious expression. Meatlug snorted at the darkness draping over us. The sun sank past us, no longer languishing in the sky.

"The slaves that were on Frigga's Promise vanished," I continued, "after the barrels from the other chiefs were loaded onto the ships. So did the two Outcasts overseeing them."

Fishlegs understood and gasped. The twins didn't. Thornado tried to cut us off from the front, swerving and spreading his massive wings.

"They're going to attack Dad's ship from the inside. No one will see it coming." I pulled Toothless so that we swooped over Thornado.

"Then why isn't Norbert firing now, if those rocks were from him?" Fishlegs pointed out.

"Because he can't see us with the clouds, thank Thor, or with the setting sun. As long as we stay high and out of sight, no one can fire on us."

"But where's the fun in that?" Ruffnut asked. "The dodging is the best part!"

"In that case, you and Tuffnut should dive down to see how close we are to Dad's ship. Otherwise, we may easily pass them. Thornado, you need to cover us."

Thornado hissed in disagreement.

"I know Dad told you to protect me, but we're too far from Frigga's Promise to turn back; the chiefs will shoot us down if we land. The best way you can protect me is by firing at any strange ships that are attacking ours."

He grumbled with his massive jaws but saw reason. The twins started diving when I told them too, whooping loudly. Fishlegs chewed on his knuckles and his fingernails.

I flew higher with Toothless, refusing to let panic claw through my chest. Astrid was on that ship; even with Stormfly, no one was ready for a sneak attack. It would probably be at night, when fewer people are taking watch. As long as we got there before dark . . .

The gods did not favor us with such luck. Dragons can fly fast, but not when half-blind and listening for enemy ships. If only Jason had dropped a less subtle hunt, and if only I had searched for the twins earlier! It was night-time by the time the twins spotted the ship. They swung up to tell us, Tuffnut leaning on his dragon's ear.

"Can we go down there and land?" he asked. "I really need to stretch my legs."

I sighed. "Be careful. Another ship may bear flaming catapults or arrows."

"Awesome," he and Ruffnut said. They dove down, an open target for any bloodthirsty combatant.

We listened for falling rocks and bow twangs. There was only the sound of the waves lapping and of a dragon landing on a scraped deck. Silence unsettled the air.

"I'm going next," I said. "I'm the one most likely to draw fire."

Thornado screeched his disagreement; Toothless and I reeled from the mild attack. Then the Thunderdrum dove down.

"That works too." I rubbed the sides of my head. "Let's go, Fishlegs."

"But what about the flaming catapults and rocks?" he asked.

"That's a chance we have to take. Dad will be angry, but I'd rather have him angry than dead." I paused. "Same with the others."

We hovered down to a gentle drop. Dad's prize ship bore large scorch marks and splintered wood but still floated. It could have been the night shadows, but I swore that flag-less ships approached from the horizon, silent like predatory cats. We dropped down quickly but silently onto the main boat's deck.

"Hiccup!" Bucket came towards us from where the twins had flopped down. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be on Frigga's Promise!"

"I'm never where I'm supposed to be," I told him. My nose wrinkled at a saccharine scent. "You have to wake up my father and tell him Outcasts are on the ship. Everyone's in danger."

"Outcasts?! Where?" he cried.

"Below deck. The barrels. They could sneak out at any moment and murder everyone."

A harsh chuckle cracked past my words, as did the saccharine stench. Leaf clippings flew in the air, and all our dragons collapsed. As I processed that we had been hit with dragon nip, Toothless's head crashed onto my metal leg and rested there; I stumbled. Fishlegs got out of the way before his Gronkle did the same. Bucket cowered with his hooked hand.

"I believe we have already sneaked out," Slaughter said, clenching a two-fingered fist and a bola. Behind him was his Outcast friend with a rusty hammer, and the slaves who had regained their hoods. They had already caught the twins and tied them next to their dragon. "We were going to hide till you arrived on Berk, but this works much better. Much less gore to deal with."

The dragon teeth shot out. I struggled to not fall and free myself from Toothless's weight. It was no good; Night Furies were built for speed but still weighed as much as ten baskets of cod. Fishlegs backed against the ship's railing, keeping his body in front of Meatlug's. Behind us we heard the sound of more boats approaching, saw a black hull approach with no flag.

"Dad!" My voice rose to a yell as the two Outcasts approached. "DAD!" And even as I screamed, I could hear bodies thudding against locked doors, people struggling to revive their dragons. No one would arrive in time, just like we hadn't.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Sorry for the late update! Second day of work, and I had to leave the house early. From now, going to update Dragon Prince three days a week - Wednesday, Thursday and Friday- so that I have more time to conclude the story on deviantart.**

**HolyFurryFish- Thank you! Ermagurd isn't planning an appearance, but she may if I ever write a third story. ;) And yes, Toothless will kill Hiccup if he doesn't use the gloves.**

**Stratoc- Nah, Jason's not responsible. He doesn't control the weather or what time Hiccup leaves.**

**Infinitechange- Thank you! Hope you also enjoy its predecessor, How to Protect a Dragon Conqueror.**

Several things happened at once; Thornado opened his massive jaws and let out a screech that shook the slaves and Outcasts off their feet, Fishlegs moved and shoved Toothless's head off my metal leg, and and I lashed forward with the dragon teeth. Slaughter screamed as four fangs slashed through his chest armor.

"Why you little-"

I didn't let him finish. Two diagonal slashes to the throat, on each side. Only a few weeks before, I had done the same to Alvin the Treacherous. He hadn't gone down, but Slaughter did. He fell backwards, gurgling with disbelief.

The slaves regained their footing. I slipped on blood and found the railing behind me. It held me up but the hooded Vikings swarmed as they had that night. My arms whirled with the dragon teeth gloves, making deep nicks into their flesh. They seemed to not register the stabs as they reached for my shoulders, where the metal, fangs and leather ended.

The other Outcast reached around around my chest and squeezed. Fishlegs tried to fight off the slaves holding him back; his muscly arms swung forward. Bucket swung blindly with his axe, calling for Mulch. The slaves didn't bother with him because he couldn't aim.

This had happened before; my breath stopped not just because of the Outcast strangling me. The dark sky seemed to light with fire as I remembered . . .

Scorched rubble falling from the ceiling, putrid smoke darkening the burning hut. Dirty hands pressed down.

"Knock him out; he's a tricky one." The same horrid face leering at me, watching me struggle.

"Fast or slowly?"

"No!" I gasped against the pressure around my chest. My present situation sank in, even as my vision went red. This was not my father's hut burning to the ground, stormed with Outcasts and Gobber too far away to help. This was a ship at night, a Berk ship. Not again. _Never_ again.

They hadn't knocked me to the ground this time, so I still could use my metal prosthetic. Standing on my right foot, choking for breath, I used the false leg to stamp into a slave's foot. Here I got lucky because they were barefoot, and as this one shrieked I used the leg to kick him off balance, so he let go. The Outcast, caught by surprise, did not expect two rows of Nadder fangs to crash into face.

Toothless's tail came to life; he couldn't lift his head off the deck, but he could still defend. His prosthetic swished against the remaining standing slaves, knocking them over. I found myself standing over the Outcast, arms free, slashing his throat, hearing a strangled stranger's voice exiting my mouth.

"'Knock him out slowly, he ruined my good fighting hand!' It wasn't my fault you lost your fingers, I didn't ask to get hunted down." My strokes became frenzied, my screams almost hysterical. "I'm not a Dragon Conqueror, you idiots! I'm not a prize you can chain to a boat or mark! I'll kill you, I will kill you-"

"Hiccup." Astrid's gentle hands on my shoulder. Her controlled, calm voice. "He's down. You can stop cutting him."

My arm gestures slowed down. I found myself breathing hard, and not just because of the bruises circling my lungs.

"He's down," she said again. "You remembered out training sessions."

I looked up. Dad and the other Vikings sprinted, tripping over prone dragons. They restrained the hooded slaves, who had fallen back on seeing their leaders fall. Fishlegs bit his lip and whimpered; Bucket did the same as Mulch came closer. Dad looked like half of him wanted to punch me to running into danger while the other half held fear, fear that I might have been taken, and fear of the Jotun numbness that had taken over my face. . .

My arms ached from swinging through flesh with precision. I lowered them and retracted the blood-soaked fangs. Astrid wrapped her arms around me, as if she were a hot blanket. Toothless swished his tail more gently, finding my prosthetic and resting his own there. It felt much lighter than his head.

Dad slowed his pace. He treaded around the soft corpses. He looked at me as if I were a wild dragon with a toothache, and yet a respectable dragon.

"I didn't know you had it in you," he said.

Gobber and Spitelout came from behind Dad. So did Snotlout and the other riders.

"If they were hiding in the barrels and coming out just now, they were probably planning to murder us in our hammocks," Spitelout said.

"That means Hiccup's arrival saved our lives," Gobber added.

Dad did not look as if the news pleased him. I closed my eyes and absorbed Astrid's warmth. There were struggled splashes from the black ship behind us, from where Thornado dove to sink it. He had no reservations about hurting the men who had tried to drown him.

* * *

It says something that nothing more exciting happened during my last month on Berk. Chiefs soon sent their sons to enroll at the Academy, Astrid and I screened them to fit them with a proper dragon and to make sure they had brought supplies as tuition, but no slaver dared show their face. Dad made the hard decision to give the slaves to Mogadon for judgment. The Meatheads did not keep slaves, but with the Thing over there was no safer place for them.

The only thing that the twins could deem exciting were my nightmares. Each day I walked around the island as if in a daze, promising that at night I would wake up screaming. Dad and Toothless managed to soothe me to sleep, but Dad's face started to gain circles around his eyes. Tuffnut took to keeping a log and would ask each day at the Academy what the evening's terror had been. I don't know what possessed me to tell him and Ruffnut.

"So you've had the tongue-ripping thriller two days in a row, blood-curdling Alvin laughing his head off every three nights, and the slavers at least once a week. Man, I wish _my_dreams were this scary."

After catching wind of this the day before I was to board the ship to Scotland- and I'm surprised she hadn't earlier- Astrid ripped the logbook out of Tuffnut's hands and whistled for Stormfly to burn it. Tuffnut protested because he didn't write much, Ruffnut backed him up, and Belch and Barf tried to rescue the book. Thuggory, who had shown up for an early flying lesson, attempting to wrestle the Zippleback to the ground and got a faceful of gas. This gave me an excuse to take Thuggory to Gothi, the Village Elder, and talk with her. He didn't lean on me, thank Thor, because he was roughly the size of a baby whale, but he staggered more than I did with a prosthetic.

The winds had finally blown away the scent of burnt wood, but only a blind boar could miss the remains of our village. Some even spoke fondly of the old dragon raids because at least some of the huts stood afterward. Gothi's hut had survived the Outcast attack, perhaps because of the rough runes that decorated the walls. Even as I approached with a peaceful intention, the rune ALGIZ twisted something inside. Thuggory clutched his stomach and groaned.

Gothi opened the door as she approached, an indulgent smile rounding her face. She reached with thin fingers to catch Thuggory's face and escort him to a mat. He lay down, and she pressed dried herbs against his abdomen. I backed away, but she beckoned. That gave me the courage as Thuggory drifted into a drugged sleep.

"Gothi, there's something I need to talk to you about. It may be sacrilegious."

Her expression did not change.

"I need to find a way to communicate with Loki, the god of trickery. He's made Alvin the Treacherous his human adversary, and the only way to remove a god's favor is to talk with the god."

Gothi trudged to where she kept a trough of sand. Her small hands grasped a bone, and she began drawing. It was a rough sketch of a temple. She then drew a stick figure of a man with a brick.

"Worship," I translated. "Build something to worship Loki."

A smile. I couldn't help but return it. First time I had been able to understand Gothi's drawings.

"Loki's signature animal is the fox," I said. "I could easily weld a statue of him and a fox."

Gothi shook her head. She nodded at Thuggory and the world outside.

I deflated. "You're right. There's no time, and Vikings don't worship Loki. If my dad got wind of it, I'd have my butt burned off before leaving for Dunbroch."

She started drawing again. The brick became a wood board, with thick lines. The stick figure gained a knife.

"Carver. Wood, not metal." I thought about this. "There will be a carver in Dunbroch? "

Gothi added an image of a crudely-drawn fox.

"Cunning. Find a cunning carver."

Gothi shook her head. Then she wiped the sand, and drew two women shaking hands in front of a round hut. One woman had Gothi's round face. The hut had a sign in runes.

"Crafty," I read. "Find the Crafty Carver. I will, if the Scots trust me enough to tell me about her."

Gothi tapped the drawing impatiently, at the joined hands.

"I need to tell her that I know you, that Gothi sent me."

She moved away from the drawing. I bent to study the other woman's features. Big nose, like a vulture's beak, and a crow hanging off her shoulder. That wouldn't be much to go on, but I committed Gothi's instructions to memory.

The small hands shoved an herb bag into my hands. Inscribed on it was the word "SECRET." Gothi pressed a finger to her lips.

"What is this?" I opened the palm-sized satchel and sniffed. The scent was unfamiliar.

Gothi rolled her eyes. She touched my darkened eyes, pressed fingers to my lips and pointed to my trousers. On seeing my expression, she flung back her grey hair as if it were in a ponytail and mimed petting a dragon.

"Astrid. Wait, this is for me and Astrid to . . ." A blush crept over. "Gothi, I can't! I'm leaving tomorrow! It wouldn't be right!"

Her face became hard. Her gestures indicated that, if I dissolved the herbs in boiling water and drank them, that I would finally sleep at night. She wouldn't take them back, so I stuck it into my pocket, blush not fading away. Thuggory snored innocently from where he lay on the mat.

* * *

Sneaking out while my father snored had become a regular past-time before this. Toothless stayed behind to allay Thornado's suspicions, only agreeing when I donned the dragon-teeth gloves. Astrid soon stayed up to hear my metal leg clanging against her house. I had fought fatigue and the nightmares with companionship. Gothi must have known about these jaunts.

Most evenings we soared on Stormfly over the cliffs, visiting old haunts. We fed Terrible Terrors on crumbling cliffs or splashed each other in the cove's pond. Occasionally Stormfly let us drop from her back, scooping us to safety.

This night was a chilly one; Astrid had bundled in our thickest furs. I tapped the grass with my prosthetic, thrust the bag at her and tried to explain what it was as she crept out of her hut.

"Gothi thinks- uh, what I mean is that I think we should be-"

"Moon tea!" she exclaimed with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous smirk. "I know just the spot to brew it."

"Wait, you know what this is?"

She tossed her head back. "Wait here. I'll be right back." Her boots turned on the wood floor. She returned in a minute with a crude metal pot.

"Astrid-"

"No talking," she said. "We only have a few hours before you have to get on that ship, and gods help me, I don't want to waste a minute." She grabbed the front of my shirt and dragged me to where Stormfly waited. Her harness clicked in place.

We soared in silence for a few minutes. Then Astrid started talking again.

"Are you taking the dragon teeth gloves with you?"

"I have to." They felt cold against my skin. "Toothless wouldn't let me leave without them. And Toothless is coming, of course."

"The Scots won't like that."

"He can't fly without me, and he wants to be with me." I paused. "If I can play the part of being harmless, so can he. And if things go wrong-"

"You can fly away, come back to Berk and apologize for failing." Her voice became hard, to hide a noise bubbling in her throat. "And then we go to war with the other tribes."

"Only if things get desperate." I tried to keep my tone light. "You can come rescue me if things get bad. I'll write, of course, and tell you how much danger I'm in."

"If you land yourself in trouble again, I will kill you myself." She sounded like the old Astrid, and I relaxed.

We landed in the cove, where Toothless and I had once shared raw fish and started flying together. Astrid unrolled a yak-hair blanket as Stormfly started a fire. Soon the herbs bubbled as we huddled and gazed at the sky.

"I wonder if the nights will be this cold in Scotland," Astrid said. "I've heard it's soggy country filled with damp forests and mysterious blue spirits that drown in bogs."

"You're really comforting," I muttered. Starlight glittered on the small pond. So did the embers.

"Thuggory mentioned that the monarchs have a red-headed princess, next in line for the throne; he said she's quite a catch."

"I bet she can't swing an ax."

"Probably not. Still, she may be like the Bog Burglar heir."

"You mean Chief Bertha's daughter?" I grimaced. "Thuggory said the Bog Burglars have that name for a reason; could be a security risk if we invite their heir to the Academy."

"Yeah, but they've never robbed Berk shores out of respect for your dad being a widow," Astrid said. "I wouldn't invite someone who wants to steal a dragon, but we need more warriors who will take our side."

"I don't know; I think the Berk warriors are fine enough."

"That's because you're loyal," she said.

"And perceptive."

We took turns sipping from the scalding pot; our lips burned. I crawled to the pond to rinse my mouth of the strange aftertaste. Then I let Astrid take control.

* * *

Afterwards, the stars settled into orderly constellations. If a painter were peeping at us from behind a rock, he would add beams of moonlight to shine on Astrid's hair, which draped over my bare shoulders. A bard would add somber minor chords to emphasize her closed eyes as I pressed my cold lips to her cheek. She was exhausted, and her blunt aggression had dissolved with the mist.

Stormfly rested by the dead fire, tail ready to shoot spines. The wind seemed to blow the stars at a rapid pace. I rested my head on Astrid's shoulder; her headband had slipped off.

Minutes passed like dull mayflies. I fretted the longer Astrid slept. She was used to being in charge, of knowing when to strike at an Outcast or snag her boyfriend, but control burdened her like a heavy cloak. When I was gone, she'd be in complete charge of the Academy, of making my father proud. A part of her would worry about me, imagine my big mouth landing me in trouble, and she'd stay up at night if a letter didn't come regularly.

The horizon lightened. Stormfly gave a soft chirp; Astrid stirred. She pressed her head into my chest and rubbed. Her eyes were still closed. I kissed the top of her head. Our bodies quivered, wrapped in the blanket.

"You better not die on me," she whispered fiercely. Her cold hands clenched my bare arms. "Frigga's Promise was bad enough. If war breaks out, hop and Toothless and fly back here. Or I'll come rescue you."

"I'll do all I can, but the gods haven't been favorable lately," I whispered sleepily, adopting a light tone to hide my worry. "Maybe I'll end up like Siegfrid if Odin deems me a tragic figure. Love potion slipped into my drink, arranged marriage, and then I die a gruesome death by sword."

She shoved me with cold hands. Her eyes became brittle and watery as she opened them and once more saw the bruises decorating my chest. Astrid hadn't punched me since that painful day on Frigga's Promise.

"If that princess slips you a love potion and arranges a marriage, I'll cut her head off."

I smirked. "I'll do the same to that Bog Burglar heir if she steals your heart and locks it in a casket."

She looked puzzled and angry. Then a harsh smile broke through her face.

"Believe me, Hiccup, that's not going to happen. I don't want to get married anyway."

I sat up. "You don't?"

"There's so much I want to do before settling down," she said. "Islands to explore, quests to fulfill. Not to mention that needing to make the Dragon Academy work if we want to keep all the tribes from turning against us."

"But _I_ want to marry you," I said, stung. Did that mean our time together meant nothing? What about dragon-sled racing during winter? What about this very evening, the tea having flowed through our veins?

"I want you to come back alive first," she said more softly, seeing the pain cross my face. "I want to know what I can do. what _we_ can do, before settling down and having kids."

"Who said anything about kids?" I asked. "We're only kids ourselves."

"That's my point; we haven't grown up, Hiccup. Not enough to do what our parents did."

"We've done more than what they've done."

"With dragons," she said, partly scornful. "With combat."

"I want us to be together."

"I do too." She leaned into my chest, closing her eyes. "Just not married. Not when people keeping trying to take you away . . .not when I can't keep you safe from the idiots in this world."

I stopped talking. Astrid handed me my sweaty tunic, and I pulled it on. my insides tore up. Vikings didn't cry, so I pretended that the hotness burning my throat was just an aftereffect of the tea. I let her run her fingers over my back, committing a sensual image of me to memory.

"If it were up to me, I'd let you keep me safe," I whispered fiercely. "I'd stay here in the Cove, where no one would find us. I'd-"

She pressed her lips at mine with such violence that I nearly fell over. Her arms wrapped around me. She broke away just as abruptly.

"Oh gods. We have to go." Her voice broke. "Your father will miss you otherwise."

Dawn. Cursed, bitter sunrise. Why hadn't it languished and let night stay longer? I had to help Astrid onto Stormfly, her hands were so jittery and retrieved the pot. It rested innocently in her satchel. We pretended that the cold winds made our noses run, and that I would never stop holding her.


	10. Chapter Nine

**So Hiccup has been forced to leave Berk, and he had a bittersweet moment with Astrid. Also, he has killed two Outcasts for the first time.**

**Stratoc- Thanks, I do know my mythology, and glad that you liked the Hiccstrid moment at the end. Your reviews will be missed. :)**

The clouds rolling over the sky draped like the fog of despair that surrounded the docks. Astrid dropped me off at my house without another word, although we exchanged another violent kiss. She even bit my lip before breaking away.

My dad was waiting in the doorway. I nodded at Astrid and hurried off. Dad ignored my rumpled clothes and wind-burned lips.

"You're late," he said.

"I don't want to go," I replied.

"That makes two of us." He threw the satchel at me with such vigor that I nearly fell over. Before I could get my bearings, Toothless leaped out of the house and pounced on me.

"Good morning to you too," I grunted from under four clawed feet. "Ready to leave?"

He sneaked in a lick, got off me and grabbed the satchel in his teeth. I patted his head and got up slowly. My metal leg sank in the damp soil.

Dad did not break his stiff pose, heading to the dock like a man headed to sign a treaty with the Green Death. I struggled to walk upright; Toothless trotted with my satchel. It was stuffed with incomplete notes and papers, the few tunics and trousers that I owned, a spyglass, an extra pair of boots, and my dragon-riding equipment. I had been tempted to take along a few books for the long voyage, but Gobber had squashed that plan.

"You need to pack light," he had said when I had packed a few days before. "The royals are said to have an entire library, filled with advanced alphabets. Besides, you have Toothless. That should provide enough entertainment." My dragon had snorted at that and nudged Gobber playfully. Gobber had scratched his ears fondly.

A crowd gathered on the beach, Berk's Vikings dressed in their finest armor. Foremost in front were Gobber, Spitelout, Bucket and Mulch. As I passed by, Bucket pressed a rolled-up scroll into my hand. Gobber whispered, "Stay safe," and Mulch nodded in agreement.

A few children pushed their way to the front; I recognized their leader as Ingie, a young girl who had helped me fend off Outcasts only a few months before. She wore traditional armor now and a smaller helmet. Her brown hair had been cut short, singed from the fire, and her back stood straighter with no stuffed lamb dripping from it. Ingie presented a sheathed knife, the hunting knife I had given it. She had scratched a rune for protection on it. I bent to give her a quick hug and take the knife. She beamed despite the somber adults.

"Kick Scottish butt," she said. The ends of her shorn hair quivered.

Astrid skulked in the back of the silent crowd; her ponytail fell forward to cover her haggard face. Ruffnut gave her a playful swat on the back, but Astrid did not register the blow. Her eyes held clouds and thunder in them, as if they would unleash a trembling storm after blinking. Snotlout hung back as well, swaggering. His eyes bugged out as they met mine, as if expecting to see the beast that had come out and murdered two Outcasts. Tuffnut kept wiping his face, rubbing at his eyes to gouge out an irritating speck. Thuggory, rubbing his stomach, gave a silent wave. He had bonded with a green Gronkle, who bowed with the other dragons.

Dad watched me stagger across the gangplank, slightly puffing with the gifts and leather bag. He urged me on to the center of the boat. His men came from within the cabins, to report that they had found no strangers smuggled in the baskets or hiding anywhere.

The anchor seemed to have gained weight, for the Vikings on board struggled to lift it. I went to help them when my eyes caught those in the crowd's. They did not break their silence to yell cheers of farewell and hope for a safe return. They didn't have to. They only asked me to return their gaze, to acknowledge that I was not off on a glorious quest to vanquish foes. Astrid broke the gaze first to make a farewell sign with her hands. Three fingers, arm upright like a tree with frail branches. Arm guards gleaming gold with her gesture. The same symbol scratched on my hunting knife and Gothi's hut.

ALGIZ. Protection. _"Stay safe."_

Thuggory noticed what Astrid was doing and took it a step further; he held both arms up with three fingers. So did Fishlegs. The twins tried to do one with six fingers but got their hands tangled up. Slowly a field of arms sprouted up like fresh dandelions, a wave of protection for the chief's son who had fought the Green Death. All of Berk was wishing for me to be safe when I had once earned their scorn, and not without reason.

They weren't treating me as a Conqueror or a Trainer or a hero. They were treating me as one of their own. Their upright hands acknowledged that what had happened on Frigga's Promise wasn't fair, shouldn't have happened in the first place.

I could have smiled bravely and shouted thanks, but they wouldn't hear it. Instead, I used my hands to make the symbol of a curling S, slanted against the cold wind,EIHWAZ_,_ or "durability". My lips mouthed the following promise:

_"I will come back."_

Dad kept his tight stare, yelling at the men to adjust the sails. Toothless tilted his head to examine my shaking hands. When the Berk shores faded, I let them fall. Then I buried my face in his scales until we hit the open sea.

* * *

In time the days blended together on the ship; Vikings were sea-worthy from birth, even if they caused their fathers trouble. We accumulated a temporary routine: Toothless and I would go out on a morning flight to stretch his wings and start an adrenaline rush, hurry back for a quick breakfast of biscuits and weak ale, pore over letters from the Scottish monarchs, sit across from Dad unable to say anything, and spend the rest of the day trying to find words to say to each other. His hands became creased with rope burns from tying and untying knots, and fear seemed to cloud his brow.

It wasn't like the other times we had tried to bond, like when Dad had taken me fishing after Mom died, or when he thought I had become an accomplished dragon slayer. Things had changed since then, I thought.

Trying to read letters from Scots was a real picnic afterward. They used a different alphabet, and trying to piece together the round and curly shapes was like trying to chew on eroded sea rocks. Toothless would peer over my shoulder as I failed to decipher the thin symbols that supposedly carried vital information. The only thing I learned is that mainland royalty used a thick cream-colored parchment that we could only get from Trader Johann, and their quill pens made the letters elegant if not legible.

After four days of not talking, translating, and realizing we weren't far from Dunbroch, I put my foot down. Or rather, I blocked Dad's way as he tried to come and leave after seeing me with Toothless by a pile of ropes, papers askew. Toothless's tail served as a paperweight so that the letters did not get lost to the cold waves.

"Dad, we need to talk," I said. "And I don't mean find a cloud burst to ponder or military strategies."

He could have easily pushed past me, but I caught his troubled gaze and he stopped.

"Since that night on the boat, you've been giving me strange looks, like you don't know me anymore," I continued. "Is it because I killed those Outcasts?"

There. It was out. Dad looked more troubled but also a bit relieved.

"Get me a drink," he said. I hopped to the half-empty barrel and drew a tankard; he took a long swig of the tankard and set it by Toothless's legs.

"I'm still the same Hiccup, the Dragon Trainer who would rather find a way for us to coexist. I know dealing with my nightmares or Alvin or those chiefs haven't been easy, but you know who I am, Dad."

He drank more ale. Wiping his mouth gave him time to formulate an answer.

"It's not what you've done, son," he said in a soft voice. "You've never disappointed me. It's what _I've_ done to you."

I lifted my left arm. "You didn't do this to me; those Outcasts did." With the help of speechless slaves, but I wasn't going to bring that up.

"I mean . . ." he hesitated. "Once I would have given all my axes to walk into battle with you, to see you cut down a dreaded enemy. I was so proud and terrified when you rode on Toothless to defeat the Green Death. When I saw what you could do without a dragon . . . that old desire to see you fight came back."

"You were also scared," I replied. "Toothless was injured when Alvin and his men shot those arrows, and I couldn't lift any weapon to defend myself from a stupid barbarian."

Toothless growled at the memory. The noise seemed to comfort Dad.

"That too," he admitted. "It's not even that there is blood on those dragon-teeth gloves. It's that when you fight, you lose that spark in your eyes, that determination that makes you the boy I know. That innocence has gone. I killed it."

"Dad, you weren't the one who ran at me with an axe or a sword," I replied dryly. "And Astrid was the one who trained me in combat, not you."

"I told Astrid to do the training, and you've paid the price for it." Dad finished his tankard and patted Toothless's head. "I can't ask for forgiveness for changing you into something you weren't, for honing on that instinct."

That's when I realized why Dad hadn't spoken; he had enough trouble apologizing for things as it is, but he was also admitting that he had gotten what he wanted and realized he didn't want it. He wanted his boy back who ran from Nightmares and claimed to shoot down rare dragons from the sky. Since that was like saying he didn't want me as a normal Viking, he may as well have cursed the gods.

A current of mixed feelings swept through me, perhaps resentment and numbness. Dad wouldn't have accepted a hug, but he allowed Toothless to nuzzle him. If the idiots in the Archipelago had left me alone, maybe I would have stayed the way he wanted me, as an innocent, Dragon Trainer. Maybe I'd be back home having sane adventures, seeking his approval or keeping peace between the dragons and Vikings.

Spitelout eventually popped his bearded face into the scene and asked if things were okay. Dad nodded, stood up and left with him to tend the sails. I sat on top of the ropes, brooding. Toothless curled up beside my clenched fists.

* * *

For a neutral diplomatic mission, we received quite a surprising welcome. I actually saw the green shores first, peering from the crow's nest on the evening shift. Dad, wide-eyed on the deck, straightened up. Toothless hung from the nets that connected the crow's nest and screeched when he caught sight of dim land. The clouds had finally cleared, so stars glimmered with promise on the fluttering waves.

"Let's go, bud," I hopped off the crow's nest and onto Toothless's back. We clambered down. Spitelout turned the keel so that we eased into port, and Dad handed me my bag.

"Don't give them any of your joking remarks," he said. "Let me handle the talking."

I nodded. Since his confession, Dad had started talking to me differently. He had drilled me in the rudimentary bits he knew about royalty and instructed that I was not to sass-mouth either the king or queen for fear of losing my head. He had also slipped me a map with a clear route on how to fly home.

"Be sure to avoid the water spouts to the south," he had told me. "And hang a white banner from your saddle so no ally will shoot you down." His words sounded calm, as if telling a fellow barbarian how to charge.

"That will be easy," I had replied. "We just have to avoid all the chiefs who want to own their Dragon Trainer." I had intended the remark to be lighthearted, but it came out bitter. It said something that Dad hadn't even rebuked me.

Several people stood on the docks, only one with a torch. Spitelout clambered off the boat once he had lowered the anchor and set up the gangplank. I took a deep breath, sucked in my stomach, and walked. Toothless followed, eyes wary. His tail swished behind us.

"Welcome to Dunbroch!" The thinnest figure said; she wore an emerald-green dress that billowed with mild restraint. Her hair flowed with her skirts, brown strands with a streak of grey. "I am Queen Elinor, and this is my husband, Fergus. Are you Stoick the Vast of Berk?"

"Indeed I am." Dad gave a half-bow and nudged me forward. "This is my son Hiccup, whom you requested to meet."

The queen scanned me over; I don't know how she could in the dim light. I had been expecting a stiff, regal empress who slipped shards of glass into people's eyes if their loyalty strayed, like the mythical snow queen. This woman was regal, but her eyes held . . . warmth. Their eyes didn't even widen on hearing my name, and her mouth retained an affable smile.

"Welcome to DunBroch, Hiccup," she said. "We hope your stay here will be pleasant."

I gave a more lopsided bow, teetering with my satchel. "Thank you, your Majesty." _Yes, I remembered Dad's lessons!_

"There is no need for formalities," she said. "Queen Elinor will do. And this is your mount?"

I stepped aside to let Toothless come forward. He gave a reluctant bow, although his yellow eyes relaxed on seeing few weapons displayed. Elinor's husband matched my father in height, although he was rounder in the middle and had ruddy, carrot-stained hair. He had a sword clipped to his belt, but his hands were empty.

"So you're Hamish's heir!" he exclaimed. "You're almost as tall as he was rumored to be!"

I was almost tempted to remark that Hamish II had been a runt by Viking standards, but Dad's advice came back to me. _No sarcasm while meeting enemies. This is just a show, to pretend they intend no harm. Do not give them an excuse to unsheathe their swords. _

"Let us go to the castle," Queen Elinor said. "You must be in need of hot food and rest."

"Thank you, but I can't stay," Dad said, "except to replenish our rations. Berk needs its chief."

I didn't say anything. Dad had already told me this plan, although he didn't like it. Thornado lay low on the ship, hidden in case of emergency.

"At least have one decent meal," the queen insisted. "Our cooks are quite excellent."

"One meal," Dad decided. He gave me a pointed look. "It will be a good way to discuss matters."

We marched towards the castle, a block of squares with pointed turrets. The lights in the narrow windows came to view. So did marching guards with crossbows.

Toothless and I exchanged identical expressions as our small party passed through the gates. I clenched my bag tighter and thought of the map. We were entering a finely decorated prison.


	11. Chapter Ten

**HolyFurryFish- No comments on whether or not Hiccup is screwed. But yeah, I misspelled the name there. It's actually Eggingarde, a slave in Book Ten of HTTYD whom Hiccup befriends. For some reason "Ermagurd" made me think of it. **

The castle was flat, compared to the large fortress I had been expecting, but its narrow windows seemed to be gasps for air from the amount of stone they used. As we approached the Great Hall, Queen Elinor turned to us.

"Maudie will show you where the stables are," she said. "There is adequate space for your mount. What is his name?"

"Toothless. And stables?"

The corners of her mouth twitched into a smile at my dragon's name. Then she composed herself.

"Yes, he will sleep in the stables. We never allow magnificent animals inside the castle if we can help it. Last time it happened . . ." she hesitated. "There was a large hunt. A violent hunt."

"The people here will hunt Toothless?" I placed a protective hand on my dragon. He hunched his head at the suggestion, perhaps remembering Frigga's Promise.

For the first time King Fergus gave a guilty chuckle. He fiddled with his left hand.

"No, we won't, of course. But the clan leaders are always sporting for a good fight, and sometimes when we are carrying axes and spears, we lose our heads."

Dad gave me a nod. "Go to the stables with Toothless, Hiccup. Make sure he is comfortable."

A round-faced maid in a white apron escorted us. She kept her distance from Toothless, muttering and tripping over her skirts. Several times the candle she carried nearly toppled to the ground.

"He won't hurt you, ma'am," I told her. "Toothless is tamed." _Unless you have it in your mind to attack his rider._

She shuddered and stopped in front of a plain rectangular building. Hay was piled in the corners. From the sounds of a rake scooping and depositing hay, someone was already there, tending to their horse.

"First bears, now dragons," the maid muttered. "What will we come to next?"

"Ma'am- Maudie was it? Did you say bears?"

"Aye," she nodded. "Fergus is known as the Bear King. He has trophies mounted all over the castle walls."

"Not dragons, though?"

"No."

I took her hand, which was cold. "Toothless won't hurt you," I repeated; she started to shy away, but Toothless gave her huge yellow eyes, the kind that meant he wanted double helpings of cod. Maudie closed her own eyes, which was the right move. I placed her shaking, nail-bitten fingers on Toothless's snout. Eventually she met his soft gaze, and her fear fell away.

"He _is_ tame," she said in wonder. "Tamer than Angus, I'd say."

A snort came from the other stall; whether it was human or horse, I could not say.

"Scratch him under the chin. He likes that." I demonstrated.

She started, slowly but steadily. Her hands were red and strained, as if they had carried too many platters that had spilled and shattered. A smile started to bloom on her cheeks.

"Hah!" A flame-headed figure strode outside. The flames made up her hair, falling nearly to her waist. "So YOU'RE the Viking!"

"You must be the princess," I responded, trying to keep my tone neutral.

"Oh, where are my manners?" Maudie removed her hands from Toothless's chin. "Hiccup, this is Princess Merida. Merida, this is Hiccup, firstborn to Stoick the Vast."

I didn't know whether you shook hands with a princess, so I gave a stiff bow instead. Toothless had collapsed on the grass in bliss.

"Pleasant to meet you." She didn't offer a hand but kept it at her waist. "I heard you were tiny, but I wasn't expecting you to be a skeleton. What, the big Vikings always starve the little ones?"

"Merida!" Maudie scolded. "What would your mother say?"

"That he needs a hot meal inside him. That's what she said, didn't she, Hiccup?"

"More or less," I muttered, growing hot. For the first time I saw myself as Dad and these royals were seeing me: a corpse of a teenager with tunic and trousers sagging off him.

"Merida," Maudie said in a warning tone, "if you've finished tending Angus, you can go in and help yourself to some supper. We've made a delicious apple pie!"

Her eyes lit up. "My favorite! But what if the boys have stolen it?"

Maudie became downcast, and she started muttering again. I could see how she had become a nervous critter. A finger went between her thin lips.

Merida flounced off, her job done. Her puffy green dress flounced with her, like a fairy trailing after its master.

"Wonderful," I told Toothless. "The princess enjoys needling hard workers, and the king likes to hunt for wild animals. I think I would've preferred a love potion and death by sword."

"She's not all bad," Maudie managed through her gnawing. "Merida's too much like her father. She'd rather tell the truth than wrap it up in a lie. _Have_ you been eating well?"

"Well enough." I placed her hands on Toothless's snout again, worked her through the motions of stroking him. Slowly her nail biting stopped. My thinking started however.

"Maudie, nothing will happen Toothless, right?"

"Not till the lords come," she answered, "with their sons on the Clan Council. Oh, you don't know about the Council."

"No."

"It's a new council where the four clans' firstborn meet to deal with tribal concerns. Much like your Viking 'Things'. Our solution when Merida refused to marry any of the tribes' sons."

"But they'll decide-"

"They won't hunt your dragon," she said firmly. "Fergus may like trophies, but you're under his protection. Both of you are. Now we should be getting on to the hall. You don't want to miss that apple pie."

Actually, I did, but what choice did I have? She taught me how to bale hay into a straw bed for Toothless, and he lay down in content. His tail stirred up stray straws.

"He likes how you rub," I said as we walked away. "You have nurturing hands."

She managed another smile. I managed to pretend that I was also reassured, because Toothless could sense danger and he would have carried me out of there if a guard hid with a knife. Still, I kept seeing hooded slaves hiding in each shadow. I kept smelling sea air and unwashed cloth with every breeze.

* * *

We exited the great darkness and into the comfort of torchlight. Maudie was chatting about the local gossip, about Merida's triplet brothers who made her life a running hell, and about the tall warrior from the Dingwall tribe who sent gushing romantic poetry; rubbing Toothless had done more than loosen her hands. I listened and responded. The brightness made my eyes water after days of cloudy skies.

An odd tapestry caught my eye. I stopped to peer at the image closely. The princess, flaming red tresses astray, holding hands with a stooped bear. They were both smiling, although set against a dismal grey background.

"The queen and princess worked on that together," Maudie said quietly. "First time Merida took to sewing with a pleasure."

I brushed a finger against the laced cloth. The bear standing hand in hand with Merida seemed at odds with the stuffed heads and smell of stale fur that hung from the walls.

Singing and laughter came from the hall. No bagpipes or steel clanging against steel. Dad was either putting on a show to banter with the king, or he and Fergus actually got along. That was a good sign. I could go in there, grab a small plate of fish-

No. Have the princess observe the scant amount I had taken, the queen urging on a chicken leg that I could never finished? Dad looking embarrassed and worried? Having all those eyes on me, on my thin frame?

I stopped, head throbbing.

"What's wrong Hiccup?"

A genuine yawn came from my mouth. "I'm tired. It's been a long day."

Maudie's smile became more genial. "That's all right. I'll tell the king and queen that you took ill and need to sleep early. Wait here."

She went forward, chattering away. I stayed beside the tapestry. Not silk, but a high quality linen that came from tightly woven plant fibers. Looking at the image made my head throb worse, but I could not look away.

Dad came out, ready to leave. He nearly knocked me down, but caught me.

"I have to leave now. Are you going to . . " He glanced in the direction of the great hall.

I shook my head.

"I don't blame you." His hands opened as if to take me up in a bear hug, but instead he bent and wrapped his arms around me, as if I were a ceramic child. I leaned my cheek against his beard, not caring if the queen and king should find us not acting like a normal Viking chief and son.

"Be resourceful, clever, and harmless. Be all of you, except quieter."

I smiled despite the mournful current sweeping through my body. He would be on the night watch on the ship, rubbing his belly for the rich foods that took years to digest. Then back to frosty Berk, having to face all the chiefs' sons whose fathers had accused me of withholding dragon training.

He let go. He had to. Then he stood up, straightened, and became a chief again. His beard was lopsided from where I had leaned against it.

"I'll come back. Definitely."

His figure got smaller as he left. I watched him disappear.

Maudie reemerged with a half-full basin and a washcloth. "We'll set out some of Fergus's old night shirts for you; need to wash those clothes of yours. Be sure to wipe your face and hands before sleeping. Come this way."

"Yes, yes." I followed her, ignoring the fact that a pair of eyes were watching us from the top of the stairs. Maudie caught a glimpse of the eyes and gave them a hard look. The water in the basin sloshed.

"You should be in bed," she muttered. They paid her no mind but kept following us.

The castle layout was simple; climb a pair of stairs that connected the dining hall to the bedrooms, give a courtesy wave to the king and queen, wobble a little to exaggerate my tiredness, and walk past a room filled with tapestries and books, and bear sculptures. Stuffed to the brim with wooden bears. I opened my mouth to ask, but Maudie hurried past it as if they kept a Monstrous Nightmare in that room.

My room had glazed windows, a simple brown bed with . . . silk sheets. I stared at them. The pillows looked to be filled with goose feathers. Then I stared at the room, which held a small desk, a connecting closet with a washstand, and a few spare outfits hung on the bed.

"Is this for me?" I asked aloud. Maudie smiled.

"Come now, you were expecting a prison cell?" She set the basin on top of the washstand with a cake of soap. "Be sure to get that grime off your face. You look like you were taking a mud bath. When you've changed, hand me your clothes; I'll wash them."

I made a face behind her back but did as she said. Well, most of it. The silk shirts were brown like the sheets but also over-sized; they would come down to my knees and sag over my elbows. Instead, I pulled out a spare tunic from the satchel and changed after stripping off the metal gloves and splashing some cold water on my face. With soap, stream of mud flew into the washstand. I kept rubbing, and more dirt came off. I wiped the metal with the washcloth, staining it black and grey.

Gods, the sea did make one grimy. I'm surprised Merida had focused on my _weight_.

Maudie didn't look amused when I opened the door a slit and passed her the salt-stinking outfit I had been wearing for the past week. She wrinkled her nose at the cloth, leaving too abruptly. Silence echoed with her departure.

I paced my room, measuring its dimensions. Not a prison cell, but close enough; the windows didn't need bars because not even a Terrible Terror could fit through them. Toothless would have to storm up the castle steps to reach me, if the royals tired of me or if I said the wrong thing.

That conclusion made me flop on top the bed. My boots slipped off and I flopped into a sea of sinking bed sheets. Bare ceiling, and the windows did not offer a view of the night sky. Not unless I smashed them. I chuckled darkly when thinking how I'd explain such a misdemeanor. My eyes drooped despite all the thinking.

When the nightmares came, they were worse than before. Perhaps it was sleeping in an unfamiliar room, drowning in blankets and realizing that I was alone in the castle with hostile enemies. And just as I was getting used to one horrid dream, another started, more terrifying than the previous one. It started with me running through a forest of dead trees, stumbling and sprinting, screaming for Toothless. A heavy figure behind me, panting and grunting. He threw something that wrapped around my legs and forced me down. As I tried to undo the cutting ropes and squirm away, he strode slowly and raised his sword over my struggling body.

"This is for my throat," he whispered. The sword came down.

Then I was back in the Kill Ring with Toothless, only Outcasts swarmed over Toothless instead of Spitelout and my dad's men. More triumphant laughter, more hostile men with beards. The ropes and chains gleamed with cheery malice as they pressed his jaws shut and clicked a muzzle over them. I screamed for them not to hurt him, fighting against Astrid's grip. My dad turned and he had changed into Alvin, bleeding from the throat. He ripped me from Astrid's hands and dragged me away. Astrid tried to catch up, but Alvin's secondhand man Savage carried her off in the other direction. She called my name.

Alvin tossed me into a dusty, dark cell and loomed in the doorway. As I attempted to regain my feet, the hooded slaves appeared from the shadows and pushed me down. They looped ropes to tie my wrists together, pressed me onto my knees and grasped my head so that I had to meet Alvin's eyes.

"Thought you could outrun me," Alvin sneered. "Thought you could sail away from your troubles and find yourself safe."

"It wasn't my choice to leave," I said, fear stealing over my insides. The familiar, terrifying feel of slaves' hands on my shoulders blocked all but one rational thought: _wake up, Hiccup, wake up! _

"Oh, you're not going to awaken." Alvin pressed his meaty hand against the right side of my cheek, studying my face. "No father or dragon to rescue you. You once told Stoick he could hurt you but not the dragon. I want to take up on that offer." He nodded to a man behind him who held the Slavemark brand. Slaughter, still bleeding from the throat, grinned with sharp teeth.

I struggled, but the dozens of hands were like sweaty shackles. Two forced my mouth open. Slaughter forced the Slavemark in.

"Oh, it's nothing personal," Alvin said casually as the hot metal snake burned against my tongue. "I just can't stand the words that come out. Your loss if you need to talk to train dragons."

I may have screamed myself awake, floundering for cool dragon scales or my father's arms. Only silk and stuffy air, neither of which told me to breathe and calm down. Castle walls, wooden desk.

I sat up and realized that I had been tucked into the bed, with the thick sheets over instead of under me. Someone had left a candle with the dragon-teeth gloves on the desk; the wax had burned out. The windows remained closed, but the door was ajar. A shadow with skirts came into focus. Dark, concerned eyes met mine. I was still gasping.

"Are you all right?" she murmured quietly, resting her hand against the doorframe. "No one else heard."

I couldn't answer; it was like the Slavemark _had _been burned onto my tongue and dried it up.

"You poor boy," she said. "What did they _do_ to you?"

I managed a shrug; my heart was still racing. The bruises around my middle throbbed as if they had recently been squeezed. An uncomfortable moment passed between our eyes. Perhaps the woman wanted to come in and examine my haggard face more closely but dared not break protocol. I wasn't her child, after all.

The shadow walked away with stammering hesitation. Too light to be Maudie's, and too soft to be the princess's.

Queen Elinor had heard me having nightmares. Then she had asked after my well-being. Inconceivable. I was a stranger, a Viking barbarian who had snubbed her offer of dinner and refused to mingle over drinks. A queen wouldn't just fuss over a runt like me unless she had ulterior motive. Was she going to ask for immoral things, like Fishlegs had suggested? Or worse, had she _pitied_ me?

The thought of pity was unbearable; I put it out of mind. Easily done with the hot room and the scant breeze coming through the door.

"That's one tongue-branding dream," I whispered, staggering out of bed to grab the dragon teeth gloves. "Won't Tuffnut be jealous."


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Stratoc- Glad you liked the last two chapters, with the Stoick and Hiccup moments! And yeah, Merida's allowed to be a brat, to show this isn't Mericcup. **

I gave up on sleep after about two or three hours. Though my body ached and my eyes were begging to close, the nightmare would start again if I dared rest. As a faint light struggled to glow through the window, I groaned, staggered out of bed, and donned the dragon-hide gloves. Time to start day one of Scottish life.

The shirt I used for sleeping was wrinkled, as were the shirts that I had slept on. When I went to the walk-in-closet, I saw that my things had been hung with more silk shirts. Only one new tunic seemed less baggy, so I snagged that to take downstairs. It whispered against my arms.

Queen Elinor had left the door open a crack; I winced as it squeaked. Not much light, what with the torches out. The darkness left a damp chill on the stone walls and hangings; my metal leg scraped. I took a deep breath, imagined sneaking around the village with Toothless, and made an effort to tiptoe. Not easy with a prosthetic. The few scrapings garnered no noise, not even from the sleeping guards.

The hall seemed dim and dead with no people inside it, although the smell of rich haggis and fruits hung like the queen's tapestries. One or two maids had made an effort to scrape spilled potatoes off the floor and had left dried bits. I kept walking, letting my steps get louder. My mouth pressed shut against the nightmare's final image and the blast of cold air that blasted through the open door. I reeled and caught myself. The girl and bear in the tapestry nearby remained oblivious. I walked forward.

Dew kissed the cold grass. It soaked my boots as I went forward. The stables seemed closer than they were; I started to run. Fear followed, the fear that a guard would awaken, think I was escaping the castle when I was trying to fight sleep, the fear that I'd collapse in the grass and they'd find a sword-wielding Outcast on my tail-

Toothless sat up as I slipped into the stables. His scales remained warm and dry. I wrapped my arms around his neck. The silk flew over his saddle; his eye caught the fluttering cloth and tried to shake it off.

"Careful, Toothless!" I rescued the shirt and draped it over my shoulder. "You couldn't sleep either?"

His drooping eyes told me the answer. I sat down beside him, pushing the dry hay aside. Nothing like a bed of dragon nip or a wooden-backed bed. Toothless draped a wing over and drew me close.

"Thanks, bud," I whispered. "Maybe I'll sneak out to the stables every night."

Toothless looked toward the castle; his stall opened to the night sky and offered a cropped view. He warbled in question and gestured at the patterned class. I pushed back a flap of his wing and looked.

"Not sure which window is mine, and besides, they're all barred. If war's declared, I have to come out when everyone's sleeping and saddle you up, which is just great. A shame I don't know where their jail cells are or how to pick a lock."

Toothless growled. A laugh crept out of my throat.

"Sorry. Not funny, I know." I twisted to wrap myself more tightly. "Up for flying in a few hours? We need to keep our skills up, just in case."

Toothless looked toward the castle again, this time with regret. His entire body slumped.

"Oh, right." I reached to scratch under his chin. "We can't give the impression that we're leaving so soon. Still, can I sleep with you till dawn? Been having nightmares about Alvin."

The very name made his legs wrap around me. With his deep breathing, warm leather for wings and drumming heart, I was able to close my eyes. The nightmare did not continue.

* * *

When the orange sun poked its head over the castle, Toothless shook me out of his wings and nudged me awake.

"Bud, knock it off." I batted at him sleepily. He gave a snort and screeched at the bright sky. "Fine, I'm up, Mr. Bossy."

Toothless let me use him as a support to get to my feet. Strands of loose straw had poked their way up my sleeves and pressed against my clothes. I pulled them out and tried to shake out the wrinkles. Some even stuck out of my hair. Still, it wasn't like there wouldn't be time before breakfast. As long as I kept a low profile and remained harmless, no one would notice my worn face or wrinkled clothes.

So much for that. I should've known that Queen Elinor had made plans. That's what royals do.

Toothless sniffed for smoke and led me to a smithy; since we couldn't fly, it felt more right do something with my hands. I laid the silk shirt and my tunic on a hanger, found some swords and shields in need of repair, and got to work. Toothless jumped on the bellows to make them work and even lit the fire. I could almost pretend that I was back on Berk, helping Gobber repair the armory.

Then the triplets had come, Merida's little brothers. Hamish, Hubert, and Harris, green eyes and all. I had heard about them from Maudie and seen their eyes last night, but having them ask their fire-poker questions destroyed the wishful fantasy that Gobber would be combing his mustache in the nearby room, shouting at the top of his longs. For the first time I had realized how horrible my bruises looked. No wonder Astrid couldn't look at them when we had lain in the cove; it was like a colony of purple oysters had decided to latch themselves to my chest and hang.

I slipped on the silk shirt, laid the repaired swords and axes in their former places, and walked out with a small metal object in my hand. Toothless followed closely.

"Bud, they won't let you in the castle. You heard what the queen said."

He narrowed his eyes and pressed his body closer. It was as if he expected to take a blow from a swinging axe. I sighed.

"Fine. I'll just say you're a stubborn dragon."

He relaxed but refused to go to the stables. I tightened my dragon teeth straps and walked into the bright morning. The courtyard bustled with activity. Maids collected eggs and milk, and chickens ran in terror. The guards poked at things with their axes. Some even started a pretend sword fight. One pushed the other into the mud.

Everyone stared as I passed. Activity slowed but did not stop. The blacksmith, a wiry figure with a grey beard growled at me. Too late I realized that some burnt iron had smudged onto the silk shirt. I backed away as Toothless growled back. A hand crept over the stain, covering it. We went through the kitchen, Toothless taking enormous effort to squeeze through the door. We pressed against the wall and let the kitchen staff march with brimming trays. Only Maudie offered a smile even as little hands stole sweet buns from the plate that she was carrying. We slipped into the hall.

"Well, good morning to you, Hiccup!" Fergus boomed happily. "I take it you slept well."

I faked a smile and nodded. Toothless's ears flattened.

"How about yourself, Your Highness?"

"Well enough!" He slapped the table at which he was sitting. "Come on; the bread is fresh!"

I approached. Toothless followed.

"Oh, and this is your beast." King Fergus bent so that he and my dragon were at eye level. "What men have you fought, Toothless? What tales have you to tell?"

Toothless snorted. The king gave a booming laugh.

"Thank you for the clothes." I gestured at my shirt, hand still covering the stain. "Are we the only ones eating now?"

"Aye. Merida and the queen have gone for a morning ride, and the boys are waiting up for them." He passed a large piece of haggis onto my plate. "You must be famished; missed out on a great feast last night!"

I took a deep breath and thanked the gods that Merida was not there. I didn't want her sharp tongue jabbing on me. The morning air allowed me to pretend there was an appetite, and the meat did smell good. I took a fork and knife, attempting to cut through the meat pudding.

"Left-handed, are you?" Fergus held up his own knife and fork. "Hold the knife in your right and fork in your left. Makes it a bit easier to use."

I did as he said; the work occupied my hands. It allowed me time to put off the actual eating; Vikings generally ate fish with their bare hands, only using spoons for soup and oatmeal.

"We'll be starting your lessons first thing after breakfast. How are you with fencing?"

"Fencing?" I stared at him.

"Do they use swords on Berk?"

"Sometimes. I've never carried one into battle. Just a hunting knife. And my gloves." I held them out to demonstrate the retractable teeth. King Fergus whistled. To my surprise, he kept smiling.

"Good thing the queen's not here; she always says not to leave weapons where we eat. May want to hide them before she comes."

"Thanks." I sliced half my haggis and passed it to Toothless; he downed it in one gulp. The gloves came off and went under the table. Toothless licked his lips.

"What about hammers?"

"Not strong enough."

"Axes?"

"Not with my father and Gobber hanging around. Oh, Gobber's the blacksmith on Berk and my dad's best friend. They didn't let me handle weapons except to repair them."

"What an outrage!" Fergus exclaimed. "They did not teach you how to defend yourself? Was there peace on your island then?"

"No," I blushed. "I _do_ know how to defend myself, though to throw a punch and parry with a hunting knife. And there are the gloves. They've never failed me." Except when it came to killing an immortal Outcast.

"But who protects you?"

I patted Toothless. "He always has."

Fergus considered. "We have our work cut out for us, lad. You're going to have to learn the basics."

"Of what?"

"Of armed combat. Do you think the clans can respect a diplomat who cannot even defend himself?" He banged his fist on the wood. "What kind of father, with all due respect to yours, would neglect that part of your education?"

Toothless and I shared a look. I made an effort to keep my voice even because I did not want to duel a man five times my size.

"My father would, Your Highness. He's always had to be chief first."

King Fergus opened his mouth to say something else, when someone cleared her throat. We turned to see the queen and her daughter standing by the hallway, red-cheeked and beaming. Well, at least the princess was; the queen had fixed a piercing glare on Fergus.

"Elinor!" The king stood up and opened his arms. "So good to have you back-"

She kept glaring at him. His shoulders slumped, and he tried to bound past her. Her hand shot out and grabbed him by the ear, dragging him to the table. He sat meekly and turned to me.

"I'm sorry I insulted your father, Hiccup; that was disrespectful of me."

"Apology accepted," I said evenly. Toothless calmed down.

"Look what Mum shot!" Merida held up a large fish, skewered on an arrow. River salmon, still sprinkled with water and feebly struggling. "On her first try too!"

Queen Elinor smiled, almost nervously. "Merida had to show me how to hold the bow properly. It brought back memories." She and her daughter shared a secretive look. King Fergus looked confused but let the secret smile pass.

"Right through the eye, Elinor! Not even Merida managed that on her first shot."

"You don't know _that_, Dad." Merida tossed her hair back. "You've never seen me shoot a fish."

Toothless left my side and sat in front of Merida in a begging position. His eyes grew big and endearing.

"Oh, you want this, beastie?" She held out the arrow. Toothless opened his mouth, showing his gums. "I can see why you're called Toothless-"

His teeth shot out, and he snatched the large fish. She jumped back. He rolled onto his side, used his claws to pull out the arrow and swallowed.

A long laugh escaped my mouth. Everyone turned to look at me.

"Oy, I didn't know you were capable of laughing," Merida said, hands up in the air. "Thought you'd never get that haunted look off your face."

"Have to agree," Fergus said. "It's quite a change."

"Fergus! Merida!" Elinor exclaimed. I chose to overlook the blunt remarks.

"He did the same thing when I first fed him a cod." I got up and patted his head. Toothless purred and offered his head for Merida to scratch. "Go on, pet him. He loves anyone who feeds him."

Merida offered her hands more easily than Maudie had. In fact, she offered both to give him a thorough scratching. Elinor couldn't help but smile despite her request that Toothless stay outside.

"Our blacksmith had a few choice words about you this morning," she said. "Said you made a dent in his work."

"Old Grizzly Morgan?" Merida kept rubbing. "He never has nice things to say, especially before afternoon tea."

I shrugged. "Apologies, your Majest-" she gave me a look. "-Queen Elinor. I just wanted to pass the time before breakfast, and I thought working in the smithy would be better than taking my dragon for a morning flight. Is the smith furious?"

"Only a tad more so than usual." The queen shook her head. "Morgan's always been behind in his work given the vast beast hunts. On the other hand, he could use an extra apprentice; we always run short of them in these parts. I just don't know if it would be . . . proper."

"I've practically grown up in my island's smithy, even as a chief's son," I said. "I'm an excellent inventor and - oh, that reminds me!" I dug into my trousers pocket to pull out what I had made. "Here. For your hair."

She took the object from my hand; her nails were long but trimmed, filed to diagonal perfection. It was a circlet with a clasp in the back, made from scrap iron but I had managed to twist the metal so that it bloomed into a wreath.

"I'll make a better one if Morgan will let me, but in the meantime-"

She undid the clasp and fitted it around her head. I had estimated her size correctly. She didn't need the circlet to look queenly, but it seemed to soften her gaze. That made things right. She had shown kindness, I had made her a gift. Now we were even and I could go back to thinking she was a Scottish queen.

"I'll talk to Morgan," she said. "Just be warned; he insists on nothing less than every bone in your body being worked to death. You need to earn your time in his smithy. And keep it spotless."

"Yes, Queen Elinor."

"Now let's talk about your education," she said. "Fergus will train you in armed combat and I will oversee your knowledge of history and politics. Stoick told me that you use a different writing system, so I'll need to teach you Scottish characters. There's important information in the letters that we sent to you."

I stumbled. "Your Majesty thank you, but I don't think armed combat lessons are a good idea."

Her eyebrows raised. "Oh? And why not?"

I looked down at myself. "I don't think . . .I can barely lift weapons when repairing them, and I don't know how they would help given-"

"Your size?" She became stern. "Strength isn't everything to a leader. Why don't you try out one lesson first and see how it goes? If you'd like, your mount can watch."

"Excellent!" Fergus stood up and grabbed me by the arm. "Let's get started! Those swords won't fence by themselves."

Toothless finally got up to follow; he had to bound because Fergus practically dragged me to the palace courtyard. Three redheads appeared, triplet boys who came through the side door. Cakes spilled from their hands, as did excited whispers.

Merida listened to them. Then she looked up, eyes brimming with adventurous, shocked curiosity. I gave her a hard look. She paid no heed and ran towards us.

"Dad, wait! You don't have any of your weapons! Why not grab Bear-Biter?"

"Thanks, lass! Almost forgot!" King Fergus let go, leaving me to regain balance, and marched up the stairs towards his armor. Merida caught up and opened her mouth.

"Don't even think about asking," I said. "Most definitely not telling."

"Men don't often get bruises around their middle." She stuck out her chin. "Not in combat. Who gave you those?"

"Like I told your brothers, a bad man."_ Dead, drifting in the freezing ocean currents with a slashed throat._

We circled each other, Toothless between us. He watched our faces.

"Well THAT'S obvious," she said. "An honorable soldier doesn't strangle a smaller opponent. Not when they're trying to kill them."

She didn't even look angry; the knowledge whetted her appetite for dangerous adventure. I flashed back to when Astrid had found out about Toothless in a similar manner and had kicked me to the ground. Merida looked more like the type to hold a man at sword-point.

"What secrets are you hiding, draugr?"

"Draugr?!" My voice rose for the first time that morning. Toothless heard and snarled. I controlled myself. "Do you even _know _what a draugr is?"

"Just because I'm not a Viking doesn't mean I don't know the Viking monsters."

I became testy. "Then you know a draugr is an undead spirit that haunts the living and seeks to drown them. As you can see, I'm clearly living."

"But you're haunted. Something terrible happened, and it's turned you into a living corpse."

"How kind of you to notice. I'm touched."

She was confused before a smile lit her face.

"Oh, so that's where your spirit was hiding! I was wondering last night."

"Keep wondering." I made an effort to calm my voice. "I'm not going to talk like that when everyone in the castle can fight or shoot arrows."

She backed off. The blow had hit home. King Fergus came back, laden with swords and axes.

"Let's get going, Hiccup! It's going to be a fun lesson!"

I followed, glad that the king could not drag me. Merida stroller at a slower pace, the smile still dancing at her face and a hunter's look in her eye. That look and the promise of further questions seemed more dangerous than grappling with a four-hundred pound king.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Ah, what a week it's been! **

**Shara Raizel- I'm also feeling sorry for Hiccup. But rest assured, he will gain back his previous badassery. You'll see how Merida worms the story out of Hiccup.**

Sun danced over the courtyard stones. A small crowd had gathered to watch: Morgan the grizzly blacksmith, the triplets, Maudie and several of the maids. Merida stood to the side, practice sword in hand. I knew it was a practice sword because she made a point of telling me. The blade passed from one hand to the other as if it were a duck feather; when she tossed one to me, however, I reeled. The thin blade was HEAVY.

Toothless watched the swinging blades with wariness. Like me he saw the potential for a slipped sword or an accident. Not that I suspected Fergus; childlike excitement enveloped him as he flung his ax Bear-Biter as a wooden target. I knew it was Bear-Biter because of the telltale claw that hung from its shaft.

The sun ran over the king's hair like liquid fire; his crooked teeth straightened into a grin.

"Fighting is the language that all men understand!" He retrieved his ax and tossed it again. Exactly the same spot on the target, making the rift in the wood deeper. "If you know how to speak it, then you know how to rule."

_I have a dragon to speak it for me_, I thought. Fergus then approached. He took the practice sword from me and held it as if meaning to cut me down. I flinched and backed into Toothless. My dragon reared up, but King Fergus laughed.

"I'm not going to hurt you. This is just a hypothetical situation. Suppose a barbarian Viking had his sword on you like this; how would you respond?"

My first response would have been, "Nothing, Your Highness. Only one barbarian has drawn a sword on me, and my hands were chained to a boat at the time." Remembering Alvin's blade was not how I wanted to spend my first combat lesson, however, not the part when he had whacked it against my forehead.

Instead, I lifted my left arm and revealed the dragon-teeth gloves. Several in the crowd gasped; awe lit Merida's eye.

"So there's your fire," she whispered. Fergus brought the sword gently on the teeth; it bounced and rattled. I had another reason to thank Gobber, because he had replaced the Nadder fangs before letting me pack them.

"Metal gloves. Effective, but I imagine not a lot of range to it." He backed away, sword lowered. "Gloves like that can only defend, slash and kill. Hardly the strategy you want when needing an opponent alive."

Breath caught in my throat like a large piece of fish: repeated slashing, screaming at the Outcast, gushing blood.

King Fergus didn't notice my changed expression. Merida did.

"Dad, I think you're giving the wrong message," she said. "I must say, draugr, I didn't expect you to be able to bite."

I dimmed my glare to a mere hard glance. She drew another practice sword from a stand and aimed it. Toothless reared.

"My dad means," she spoke with projection, "that to understand combat you have to be able to work at different levels. The gloves are good for self-defense but will hardly get you respect in a duel."

"I built the gloves for self-defense," I said under my breath. She heard.

The triplets, their father and the blacksmith watched with rapt attention. Morgan's fingers started twitching, as if to reach for a bag of nuts. Maudie wrung the green napkin in her hand.

"Respect is the main thing," she said. "Being able to win is the second. You never want to find yourself in a situation where you have to duel a loved one like a brother- or a father," she added darkly, "but you may have to. Precision is the trick."

Fergus gave a nervous wince. Merida reached into the weapons stand and tossed out another practice sword. I didn't catch it.

"Princess, I'm not going to fight you." I retracted the teeth.

"Why? Think you can hurt me?" Her hunter's eyes twinkled as she started to walk around me. Toothless blocked her path, however, and I hadn't moved from my spot.

"No. It's because he trusts you," I said. Toothless's eyes hadn't narrowed, even though Merida carried a sword. In a softer voice, I continued, "That, and it's because I couldn't defeat you even if that sword were lighter. I'm not a fighter. Even if I were, this is your land, and your people are watching. Striking down the princess would mean instant, painful death. I'd rather live."

She gave a harsh laugh. Toothless kept staring, however, so she backed away.

"You are a clever boy," she said, sheathing her sword. "If any of the clan leaders' sons were as smart as you, then maybe they wouldn't have competed for my hand. But why does a boy whose not a fighter have such dangerous teeth, and such a dangerous beast?"

"Toothless is not dangerous."

"Not right now. But he's agile and sharp-witted. If I were to attack you, he'd probably fight back, wouldn't he?"

"It would depend on the range of the attack," I admitted. "Also on how well he knows you. When Astrid was training me, she'd knock me to the ground. The first time she did that, Toothless almost attacked her. Over time he adjusted." Granted, she had knocked me down for a different reason the first time.

The sword came out again, this time coming down with a swifter stroke. I used the gloves to block it, but the blow sent me back a few paces. Her blade caressed my face.

"Who's Astrid?" she whispered. I backed away from the blade and struck it, teeth retracted. A metallic clanging rang through the air. Vibrations shot through my left arm.

"My girlfriend." I smirked at her surprise. "I may look like a draugr, but I do have a girlfriend. She taught me how to use these."

Merida regained her fighter's stance. "Show me what else you learned."

My arm was still tingling. "I thought the queen said I could just give this a try, not sign up for lessons."

Her smirk became more pronounced. "You really believed that, didn't you?"

"Merida, that's enough!"

We both turned. Queen Elinor strode towards us, long skirts writhing. She did not grab the princess by the ear, but she didn't need to. I backed away and lowered my gloves. Merida stood her ground.

"Mum, I was just-"

"You've just insulted him, and me. Hiccup is our guest, and that means we treat him with respect," Elinor said. "That means not interrogating him."

The queen had heard our conversation? I backed closer to Toothless and placed a hand on his head. He watched with interest as mother and daughter argued.

"I was only showing him why those teeth aren't a good idea if he's going to take more lessons. He should learn archery at least, and fencing."

"And he should only be _learning_. Not answering questions unrelated to fencing or fighting."

"Toothless, stand down." I approached them. "Your Majesty, I thought this lesson was only a trial run, to see if they would go well."

"No first lesson goes well," Merida said bitterly.

"The clan leaders won't hear you out unless you are able to hold yourself in a fight," Queen Elinor said in a gentler tone. "It would be one thing if you were completely defenseless, but . . ."

So competence was rewarded with more jabs from sharp objects. How thrilling.

"We need to find you a light blade," Fergus broke in. "But in the meantime, let's see what those gloves can do."

"Indeed." Queen Elinor went to stand by Maudie, retaining her regal pose. "Let us all see."

Merida raised her sword. I blocked. We grappled for a few minutes, and I saw the princess's point about precision. Gloves were all right for blocking oncoming blades but not for disarming them, and the metal didn't allow my wrist to flex or adjust. I didn't dare punch the princess in the nose because that was not what you did in enemy territory. Toothless almost got between us at points, but Merida's relaxed hands and casual conversation calmed him. She could have killed me at any moment, but I was too interesting and secretive.

She backed off. I leaned against Toothless to catch my breath, and the blade found my throat.

"Always be on your guard, draugr." She withdrew and sheathed it before Toothless could fire. "You never know what an enemy may have up its sleeve. What if you were separated from your dragon?"

"That's not a question of 'if'." I touched my throat. Alvin had scratched the same spot. "That's a question of 'when.' What do you think the gloves are for?"

"_Were_ for." She tapped her fingers. "No self-respecting warrior would fight you with THOSE on."

"It's all right for an evaluation." Queen Elinor got between us. "I think now is a good time for a break, and then we can look through the armory before starting up again with archery. Then I'll teach you about Scottish history till the evening."

My eyes widened. We were going to continue? Were they insane?

Merida shot me a look that almost resembled pity. I caught what she muttered.

"Welcome to my world, draugr."

* * *

It shouldn't have bothered me that the queen had lied. She was the queen after all, and she could have lied about worse things, like that the men would hunt Toothless or that I was under her family's protection. For all that I knew, she still would ask for immoral things.

But still, as Fergus sorted through thin steel blades and Merida strung up an assortment of bows, a nagging disappointment itched inside me. Perhaps some part of me had been hoping for that kindness from the night before, that honest concern. I wanted to find that part and sever it from my brain; no one owed me kindness or pity. Merida's abrasive attitude was preferable.

The archery lesson finally ended when my arm wouldn't move to take any of the bows. They were light but meant for right-handed warriors; I kept having to adjust my grip around the curved parts. King Fergus corrected my grip each time, but it slipped back into an automatic, rigid pose.

"Hate to say this, Hiccup, but you won't be able to shoot an arrow unless you relax." Fergus looked apologetic. "I've never seen tighter fingers, and I've seen dead men never let go of their enemies. Have you ever HELD a bow?"

"No one on Berk uses them," I told him. "Only our enemies the Outcasts do. That's how they hurt my dragon."

Toothless shivered, as if the arrows that had immobilized him for a few days still pierced him. King Fergus nodded with sympathy, though he and his daughters used longbows and not Alvin's short ones.

"Just the same, we need to teach your fingers new lessons. Sometimes an enemy is your greatest teacher. Try this exercise." He clenched his hand into a fist and then opened it.

Merida watched, gaining disinterest. I had heard she was the best archer in the land, but her hands curved perfectly around her bow when she demonstrated her ability. Bulls-eye target each time.

"Okay. I'll it. Maybe we should break for lunch?" I suggested, getting demoralized.

"Excellent idea. We're supposed to have boar's heart today!" Fergus clapped his hands together. "Coming, Merida?"

"In a minute," she said, picking up her quiver and shooting. I breathed a small sigh of relief. Fergus didn't drag me along, but he didn't let me out of his sight either. Instead, he regaled me with the tale of how an immortal bear had eaten his leg. I had to walk by his side and ask the obligatory questions.

Drenched with sweat and strained fingers, I was half-listening. Toothless didn't want to hear about hunts, so he walked with ears clamped down. Despite my tired stumbling and wobbling, the story held my attention.

Like me, King Fergus had lost his leg fighting a monstrous beast; in this case, it had been a bear impervious to weapons. Worse, the bear had tried to attack his wife and daughter, on Merida's birthday. Small wonder that Fergus became obsessed with training himself and Merida, to learn every fighting skill necessary, in case the monster Mordu returned.

"That obsession nearly led me to killing Elinor," he said ruefully. "Merida had to stop me from releasing the final blow."

"Dad," Merida said, "it's all right now. Mordu is gone. Mum is all right."

"Um, what?" I sat down at the table, not looking at the boar's meat drenched in sauce. "What did the bear have to do with the queen?" _Why in Thor's name did you try to kill your wife?_

The king and princess exchanged a look. Toothless peered, also trying to understand what they meant.

"Not here, lad," King Fergus said with fake cheer. "We don't talk about bears in the castle anymore. It's quite a tale. Merida knows more of it than I do."

"I don't give my stories freely," Merida said, sticking out her chin. "They come with a high price."

"I'm not telling you how I got the bruises, princess. If the queen doesn't want the tale to spread, then I'm not prying." _That's when you find the dead bodies behind the forbidden door and the blood on the door key that won't come off. _

"Aye, you're a keen lad." Fergus nodded. He ripped into his helping of boar's heart. "It's a tale that shouldn't spread into other lands. Besides, the queen hasn't forgotten it."

Merida bit her lip; for the first time, she looked worried.

"Believe me, it would be better if some tales remained untold," I said pointedly. "Sometimes they don't have heroes or a glorious hour. Sometimes they just have a scared boy who acts defensively."

"Anyone can be a hero in any story," she returned. "It all matters on how you tell the tale."

She had either missed the point or ignored it. I wanted to bang my head on the table.

"I'm sure you've had adventures where you were the hero, Hiccup," King Fergus broke in. "After all, you were the first Viking to tame a dragon."

"Train a dragon," I corrected him. An idea sprung to mind. "Maybe I can tell you we started forming a bond."

"By all means!"

Toothless laid his head on my lap for the tale. I closed my eyes to recreate that day in the cove, when I had kicked my old hunting knife into the water and swallowed raw fish. Toothless offered a gummy smile as I recalled this, while rolling his eyes when describing how he wouldn't let me touch him.

The triplets appeared from the kitchen, covered in soot and grease. They sat to listen, although the one in the middle sneaked a glance at my chair. Merida tossed apples; they caught with grimy hands.

"Then I started drawing him, and he came to watch. He recognized himself in the dirt, with the big eyes and pointed ears. The drawing inspired him, that a single stick could create a memorable image."

Toothless warbled with pleasure. I rubbed him and let myself loosen up.

"Then he returned the favor, ripping a large tree out of the ground and swirling around me, making a pattern of curves and edges. He growled every time I stepped on them, so I stepped over them and found myself spinning towards him. Only then, when I let my hand dangle in front of his waiting eyes and turned away, did he let his head press against my palm."

Merida tried to pretend she wasn't listening, but the triplets had tumbled over each other to hang onto every word. One had apple juice dribbling down his chin and a rope in his hand. I moved my legs away instinctively.

"Toothless taught me to respect his boundaries before I could break them." It felt odd to say this while scratching my dragon's neck and cuddling towards him. "So you could say that while I trained him, he also trained me."

"That explains why he's so relaxed around you," Fergus broke in. "You've formed a deep bond, seen past his scaly face. That makes you wiser than most men."

Toothless snorted. I couldn't help but agree with him. A wise Viking would have more respect.

Merida gave up pretending she wasn't interested. To cover that up, grabbed an apple and bit into it. She grabbed another with her free hand and tossed.

"Heads up, draugr."

I caught the apple with two hands and studied the yellow spots on its skin. We didn't have that many fruits on Berk, and the ones that grew had thick skins and little moisture.

"Go on. Dunbroch has the best apple orchards. It's a shame you missed the pie last night; the cooks outdid themselves."

Despite my stomach sinking at the thought, my teeth sunk into the fruit. Sweetness broke down into several moist bits, and I found myself chewing. It took an effort to not gobble down the apple in several bites and gorge myself on the meat, because I didn't want to appear like I was starving even though I was. It _had _been a while since a full meal had gone down my throat. Instead, I remembered to use the knife and fork the way I had been taught and swallow an entire meal.

Merida's smile had returned, this time triumphant. King Fergus also looked delighted. The triplets dove under the table, finding another object of interest.

"About time you got some food in you lad. You're going to need your strength for Elinor's lessons."


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Shara Raizel- I agree, Hiccup needs to mellow a bit. But give him time. And your guess about Hiccup is correct!**

After lunch, Toothless was sent back to the stables as I went into the castle for my first lesson with the queen. Maudie came to take him. I guess people had noticed she felt more comfortable walking with Toothless. Queen Elinor also arrived.

"This way, Hiccup," she said. We walked up the stairs to the chambers Toothless sent a concerned look, but Maudie stroked the back of his neck. He relaxed.

"I'll be fine, Toothless." I nudged my head at the rooms. "That's where everyone goes for resting and reading."

He understood and turned to walk outside. The triplets trailed behind him, looking as if they wanted to hang onto the long tail. Toothless swished it so they wouldn't. Merida gave me a sympathetic look as Queen Elinor and I disappeared behind the door.

We didn't make eye contact. The queen looked forward, and I stared at the wall decorations. When we passed the bear room, she gave a shudder. Part of me wanted to take her arm and comfort her, but another part squelched on the idea. She had built up a regal shield around her, and I could relate.

The queen led me to a warm study with a crackling fire. Light entered from thin windows, identical to the ones in my room. Dozens of leather-bound books lined the walls, varying in red and green tones. There was a blank space on the wall, where perhaps a tapestry may have hung. Elinor avoided the spot and led me to a table. She told me to sit and took several blank books from a drawer. Her eyes occasionally flickered to the fire, as if it had burnt something valuable.

"One thing I want you to do is practice your letters each day, and to try reading the notes that we sent to Berk." She handed a thin volume to me, as well as a quill pen. "Have you used a pen before?"

"Actually, yes. Ink is very difficult to get, though."

"I'll have Maudie run you up a bottle," she promised. Taking a small knife, she cut the end of the quill pen and dipped it in ink. "See how I'm holding the tip at an angle, so that the ink doesn't splatter. That's important when writing a letter; the ink is permanent, unlike charcoal. How do you write?"

"I don't write with ink; I usually draw."

"Show me."

I took the pen from her and showed deft strokes. Toothless posing in our hut, watching with curious eyes. His wings were folded, and he seemed to circle his small corner. The queen was impressed.

"You're quite an artist. A shame we don't have an alphabet based on pictures."

We spent the next hour in this fashion: Elinor would write out a circular or zigzagging letter next to the runic equivalent, having me sound it out, and then I'd write it four or five times. The paper was of a cheap parchment, perhaps crafted in the castle itself. I learned that while one rune could suffice for one word, you'd need several letters to craft the same thing with Scottish letters. Some letters even had multiple shapes, complicating the writing. Black ink stained my fingers.

"You need to be patient with yourself," Elinor said as my face scrunched up. "You're going to have to learn what most kings learn from a young age. I'm surprised you've picked up the knack for pencil strokes this quickly."

_Thank you for that backhanded compliment, Your Majesty._ She caught my darkened expression.

"I mean it. You're a much better student than Merida; she'd be drawing caricatures instead of letters."

At this, I couldn't help but smile. It seemed the princess's manner grated on more than one person.

When my hand gave in to cramping, Elinor let me stop. She then unrolled a map and showed me Scotland on a flat page. I watched her fingers mark the different clans' territorial claims, the rivers with the largest amounts of fish, and ancient battlegrounds.

"When four brothers ruled the kingdom, they had their castle in the mountain." She pointed at a streak of jagged triangles, shuddering. "That place has since been abandoned, and for good reason. I still have nightmares about Merida trapped there, falling into the dark pit." Her hand writhed against the grey triangles, wrinkling the map. Low muttering gave way to harsh growls.

"Um, Your Majesty?"

The shudder and moans passed. "It's nothing. Old memories. Why don't we stop here for today?"

"Thank you. For teaching me, and for letting me rest." I said this calmly, so as not to betray my confusion at her sternness and vulnerability. "Queen Elinor, if I wanted to read any of the books in the room-"

"You may take one at a time, but they cannot leave the room. They're more delicate than they look." The fire crackled against her tight smile. "Besides, you'll have to master those letters first before you can peruse them."

I should've ignored Gobber about not packing books. A library meant nothing if you couldn't read the words.

"I'm going to go see the blacksmith, to discuss terms of apprenticeship."

An amused twinkle entered her eyes. "Be prepared to bargain hard. Morgan may listen to me, but he has a stubborn streak."

* * *

"Here's the first thing I want to get out of the way," Morgan said. He wiped an ax head with vigor, as if planning to swing it at my neck. "I'm not taking you on because I need the work; I'm only satisfying the queen's whims. The only good Viking is a dead Viking."

"Noted. I'm guessing then I won't have access to the full supplies for outside projects."

"Absolutely not." He pointed the ax at me. "You want material, you work for it. I give blades, you sharpen."

"How will the material be allocated?" I kept my voice calm. Time to slip in a lie about previous apprentice experience; not like he could check my references. "Normally I'd work in a smithy all day, but the queen has set a schedule for me that involve other sharp objects and books. How about I get paid per weapon repaired, straightened or sharpened?"

Morgan thought. "When would you work?"

"An hour before dawn and two hours in the evening. "

"You'll be late for each dinner. One and a half hours, spent on whatever weapons I give you." He took out a barrel filled with scrap iron, cut into chips. "These are credits. Each weapon gets one credit; five credits will give you a foot of metal or leather."

"Axes should get six credits," I retorted.

"One credit."

"Four credits."

"One credit and a swatting."

"Three."

"Fine! Three!" Morgan threw up his hands in surrender. "The things I go through for the queen's whims! I suppose you'll want ten credits for swords when I only offer one?"

"Yes, and knives get one credit."

We negotiated, bargained and counter-bargained. Morgan's brow grew redder, and at one point he swung the ax he was cleaning. Not at me, but at a chopping block meant for firewood. In the end, though, we shook hands, and he told me he wasn't lending me an apron.

"Can't treat the queen's gifts like rubbish; you either wear old shirts or cover them up," he grunted. "And keep the smithy clean! One speck, and you lose credits for the day!"

I gave him a tight smile. "Can I start working now?"

"Only if you take that shirt off." He pointed. "Hang it by the wall, and start on those axes."

I did as he did and ignored his exclamation at the bruises. One can only take so many shocked stares in one day. Instead, I asked why he hated Vikings so much, and he regaled me with war tales of invading pirates and raiders. The more brutal tribes liked to pillage Scottish settlements for slaves, often scooping them up as hawks would scoop up rabbits. Morgan's face dried with bitterness as he recalled his wife and children getting shackled and shoved aboard ships. The queen had been kind enough to take him in after the four clans had united, but Morgan had never seen his family again.

_Not all Vikings are like that_, I thought while sharpening a practice sword. _Just the ones willing to attack dragon trainers._

The day grew darker. Morgan left, the growing pile of fixed weapons making him growl louder. Toothless then came in, watching sweat roll down my chest. I let go of a gleaming sword to pat him.

"Ready to do a night flight after this, bud?" I whispered. He nodded. "Did the boys bother you?"

He shook his head with mild irritation. Then his ears perked, and he barked a warning. Tiny, determined footsteps. Skirts swirling and swishing in a frenzy.

Oh gods. Why couldn't they lock her in a grimy tower without doors like other princesses?

The sword clattered to the ground. Toothless covered me as I reached for the silk shirt. An arrow twanged. I jumped back as it lodged itself in the wall, inches from my hands.

"So those are the marks," Merida said. Sweat ran through her hair but highlighted the pinkness and panting. She held a notched bow and a small, green bundle, which she tossed to me. I caught it with blackened hands. "My brothers were right; they're hard to miss."

Toothless spread his wings so that they served as an impromptu screen. I set down the bundle, stood on tiptoes, and gave her a hard look. "I thought the queen told you to back off."

"Only during lessons, draugr. Mum said nothing about interrogating you after lessons." She gave a mischievous grin.

"You realize if our situations were reversed that I'd be the one getting my head chopped off?" I asked with exasperation, backing towards the wall. Toothless kept his wings up to cover the bruises.

"That's because you're a boy," she responded, moving forward. "You can get away with having less clothes."

"Apparently not when people are interested in my body. Why do you want so badly to know?"

"I'm curious. Mum sends a letter finding Hamish's heir and, by all miracles, you're not a stupid lout who swings axes. Then you show up in the middle of the night all starved and scarred, and your ship mysteriously departs." Her eyes narrowed with delighted suspicion.

"It's not an exciting story, how I got these." I reached for the shirt, but she shot another arrow. The metal head lodged between the wall stones. "Will you knock it off, princess? One of those could hit my good hand."

"You doubt my marksmanship?" She circled, another arrow notched. Toothless stood up and growled. "Easy, beastie, I'm not going to hurt your rider. I just want to ask him a few questions."

"Wouldn't you rather hear how Toothless and I took down the Green Death, a dragon the size of Helheim? Or how I lost my leg in the battle?"

"Dad will want you to save that for meal times. Besides, losing a leg isn't remarkable; that's what happens when you tangle with wild beasts. But getting strangled in a fight-"

My anger came out flat. "Princess, I think I told you before that some stories have no heroes or glorious moments. You'd be very disappointed."

"Then you have nothing to lose by telling me, draugr." She gestured with her bow at the bundle. "Open it."

I did. A slice of apple pie, crust crumbling into sticky bits.

"I had Maudie save you a piece."

"You can't bribe the story out of me, but I appreciate the gesture," I re-wrapped the pie with a tight sailor's knot. Some golden syrup stuck to my fingers.

"How do you know this isn't a bribe?" she challenged me. "How do you know I don't care about your well-being?"

"Because you don't have a heart," I responded.

"I'm deeply wounded, draugr."

"You started it." I tried a different ploy. "Unless you know who the Crafty Carver is, princess, or where I can find her, you're not getting anything out of me."

She froze. Her bow lowered.

"That's what I thought." I grabbed the silk shirt and slipped it on. "Come on, bud; let's go flying before dinner."

The princess gave me a dark look as we marched past her and I returned the bundle. For the first time her face scrunched up, as if to hide a great and terrible secret.

"Now you know how I feel," I told her. She stuck her tongue out. So much for princesslike behavior.

Birds chirped evening farewells. Toothless and I scrambled to the night-tinted grass. I swung my metal leg over the saddle, and we took off. The stars hung like glistening fruit, too far for our reach. Toothless and I dove for them as if we were picking prickly thistles, spinning through the air and soaring.

The night chill welcomed us like a blanket swaddling a baby. The guards stared in awe as we soared over their heads, exploring the castle from the top. It occurred to me that Toothless and I could just leave, vanish through the cloud cover and explore the cloud-kissed mountains on the horizon. If only my things weren't locked in the castle and I hadn't signed on to an apprenticeship with a blacksmith.

If only I hadn't made that promise to Jason.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

** Shara Raizel- Not very well. Merida considers meeting the witch an old shame. It will take a while for her to admit her "selfish wish." **

The Scottish royalty and smithy routine closed around me like a jeweled collar. Even though Toothless and I had free time in the hours before dawn and after sunset, the queen seemed determined to divide my days into useful educational fields. Her husband and daughter would instruct me in archery and fencing, the former of which I failed miserably at, and then I'd be ushered to lunch and afternoon lessons permanently stained my fingers with ink. In the evening, Morgan would dump weapons into my skinny arms, count out credits with a grimace, and lambaste all Vikings for their murderous raids and callousness.

I'd wipe my fingers clean, mutter rebelliously under my breath and learn little clues to the raiders' identity. Maybe Norbert or Madguts the Murderous had been responsible, and perhaps Morgan's children were still alive. If not for my father's worry on Frigga's Promise, the pure fear in his voice when the hooded slaves had attacked, I may have challenged the old blacksmith to an honor duel and risked broken bones. Dad could have easily become as bitter as Morgan if I had entered slavery on Frigga's Promise.

At least with fencing my left hand gained a life of its own, once we found a suitable blade. My fingers would still tightened around the handle in awkward poses, but I learned to jab and parry. King Fergus's gleam gained triumph and satisfaction, which made up for his frustration with archery.

Our first lesson started my third day in Dunbroch with unsharpened blades and posing. Lots of posing.

"Fencing is about deciding what body parts to display." King Fergus demonstrated with his own body. "It's also a choice of politeness; certain body parts show you mean business, others mean that you are friendly-"

"And others shouldn't be shown because they're not polite at all," Merida broke in with a wicked smile. "Like organs and stomach insides."

"Aye, that happens if you expose too much of yourself." Fergus nodded at his daughter. "Stand with your legs apart and knees slightly bent. Keep them relaxed. Make sure your dominant foot is pointed forward."

I did as he said. Immediately he came towards me.

"No, no, you need to keep your back straight. Don't let your right foot drag behind. Turn your body."

He grabbed my shoulders and readjusted my pose, forgetting that I used a prosthetic; I felt myself slipping.

"Ground yourself." The prosthetic leveled against the ground. "Now stand still, let me adjust your arms."

Toothless gained an incredulous look. I would have laughed if not for the contortion that followed; Fergus kept lifting and lowering my arms as if i were a doll. Only then did they hand me a practice blade. The tip sagged to the ground, and I broke my pose attempting to lift it.

"Dad, I think we need something lighter for this Viking." Merida grabbed a thinner blade with a sharp edge. "Try this, draugr."

I gave her a suspicious look. She still had a wicked grin. We hadn't spoken since last night, though she had laughed when I had tasted black tea that morning. Queen Elinor had reminded her that princesses do not chortle when a guest makes a face and starts talking rapidly.

The practice blade was lighter; that was the good thing. The bad thing was that I could not hold it still as Fergus rearranged me again. My limbs protested, but the king wouldn't listen.

"You'll only learn by doing," he insisted. The sword was finally horizontal, the way he wanted. I had swiveled my body so that only the left side was exposed, and I held the sword with two hands. "Only use your left one."

"Why?"

"More precision." He unwound my fingers and bid them to relax at my side. The sword nearly sagged, but I used all the effort in my left hand to keep it upright.

Merida was biting back her chortles; her face turned red from the effort. Toothless batted her with his tail. She had given him four fish from the river that morning, but his loyalties lay with me.

Gods, I needed to master archery and wipe that smile off her face.

"Now block!" Fergus brought his sword down. Toothless leaped up.

_Clink._

I stared. My sword was blocking the king's. It was steady, still flat the way he had showed me. Fergus swung his blade away and struck again.

This time I saw what happened. Left hand automatically shooting forward, wrist flicking to deflect his blade.

"My word!" Fergus was delighted. "You're a natural!"

"Yeah, if he can keep that up for an hour," Merida called. "Might just be a lucky shot."

Fergus kept striking, and I kept blocking. Although my legs and lower back weren't used to standing at a slanted angle, my left arm responded to each attack automatically, like they had with the Outcasts. Instead of the numbness that normally spread through me, however, pleasant jolts quivered through my body. If my father could see me now!

That led to an ugly thought: Dad had never trusted me with learning to use weapons. If I were the same boy I had been before Frigga's Promise, I may have believed that he had been ashamed of my making mistakes, of getting injured from a stray hammer. But now I knew it was because on one level he had wanted me to stay his innocent child forever, always in need of protection.

The practice sword clattered to the ground. Its rattling brought me to the present. The ugly thought had allowed King Fergus to break through my guard

"Stay focused," King Fergus said. "Your opponent should be the only thing on your mind."

I nodded, took a deep breath, and banished the ugly thought. At least I was learning now, before I gained Gobber's arthritis.

The sword returned to my hands. The king increased his attacks, soon bestowing light taps on my head and shoulders.

At the end of the hour, we were both panting, and my tongue was dry. Toothless had lain down in the sun and spread his wings, absorbing the warm rays. He opened one lazy eye as we replaced the practice swords in their holders.

"We are going to teach you a lot in the upcoming month." King Fergus wiped his blade and sweating brow. "I just can't wait to see the other clan leaders' faces!"

I wiped my own face to hide my pain. Dad had sounded just as proud when I had proven capable of defending myself without a dragon. Like my father, King Fergus would soon let that pride dissolve when he saw that monstrous side of me.

If I let him.

* * *

Gobber would have said, "Hiccup is the last Viking you'd expect to duel with and nearly lose! He doesn't have the arms for it!" But as the days passed, I discovered my proficiency with light slashing blades as well as history lessons. It reminded me of riding with Toothless after I had thrown away the cheat sheet.

My legs soon gained confidence; I no longer needed the king to rearrange me into various poses. He encouraged me to take advantage of opponents' errors and quickly correct my own. A sixth sense also emerged when Merida challenged me to a practice duel.

It was five days after the first lesson, and by then I had filled several pages of parchment detailing my daily routine to Astrid, and my father. The Scottish alphabet came more easily now, with Elinor forcing me to copy the letters and memorizing them. I could read her notes now fluently, as well as the books.

"Let's see how much you've retained this week, draugr." She held her blade flat and angled so that only her right side showed. King Fergus watched with nervous pride as I widened my feet. We circled with tight smiles.

She struck first with a side jab; I blocked it and stood my ground. More circling, eyes locked on the other's blade.

"I'll say this; you'd make a fine chalk doll." Another jab to my right, going for a blind spot. I sidestepped the blow.

"Is this your attempt to distract me and make me drop my guard?" I managed a lunge at her nose, which she barely deflected.

"And what if it is?" She jumped back. I took advantage of her mistake and charged, managing to swat her on the shoulder.

"It's not going to work." I backed away as she made the signal for "time-out" and rubbed the sore spot. Toothless let off a celebratory fireball that scorched the cobblestones.

"Well done, Hiccup!" King Fergus clapped his hands. "First time anyone's managed to get past my daughter's guard."

Merida glared at her father. He stopped smiling.

"Of course, she was holding back because she likes you. You're a cute opponent."

"That's not why," Merida spoke. She stood with a fierce expression. "Dad, why don't we try the blindfold? See if he can sense the blade?"

Fergus paused. "That's quite advanced, Merida. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you want to avenge your shoulder."

"Of course not," she said innocently. "But any boy who can break my guard should develop his senses in the case that he's blinded, or fighting in the dark."

I gave her a hard look.

"Unless you're scared of getting knocked down, draugr."

"Hand the blindfold over."

Even when captured that I had been able to see everything. Being able to register my surroundings made a difference, to find opportunity for escape or an opponent's weakness. I tied the thick handkerchief around my eyes and thanked the gods not to be on Frigga's Promise. If not for the previous practice sessions, I would not have willingly blinded myself.

"Hold your blade."

I did so.

"Now," King Fergus called, "begin!"

A faint whistling. Wood smacked my left cheek.

"Ow!" I wheeled around where the blow came, but another already came down on my shoulder. Before long I was disarmed and rubbing every part of my upper body. My feet wobbled.

"So, what did you learn?" Merida asked as I removed the blindfold and glared at her.

"That you're a sore loser?" I retrieved my blade.

She shook her head. "You didn't rely on any of your other senses. What did you hear when I disarmed you?"

I thought. "Whistling. The sound of the blade cutting through the air."

"Exactly." She brought her blade down slower; now I could hear the faint sound. "Different weapons always make a different sound, but the principle is the same. Listen for the sound so that you can anticipate the blow."

"But an opponent like yourself wouldn't give me that opportunity," I pointed out. We circled again. "You took advantage of my blindness to win."

"That's because you're an amateur, draugr. Most opponents also don't realize that their swords are noisy to a professional. You're lucky to have the best archer in Scotland as a sparring partner."

"Very lucky."

She swung her blade more slowly. "Put it on again. I'll go slower so you can hear the sound."

I didn't trust the mischievous look in her eye, but I couldn't ignore the challenge either. The blindfold went around my eyes again, and I listened intently.

The whistling seemed louder, and my left arm went to the sound. Blade didn't meet blade, however; instead, wrist met blade. I whirled away with a yelp and struck where I heard the whistling. There was a satisfying thunk.

"Better," Merida said with satisfaction. "Maybe soon you'll be able to duel with your eyes closed."

"I doubt it."

Her voice became hard. "Never doubt yourself. You may be a Viking, and you may have secrets, but you have potential."

"Did my ears fail me?" I asked with exaggerated disbelief. "Did you actually say something nice?"

"I'm always nice, draugr. Have at you!"

She gave smaller blows, in ranges of slow to fast, so that I could hear the differences. In time, I was able to respond quickly. It was almost a shame to take the blindfold off again and adjust to seeing again, losing that ability to hear the oncoming blades.

"Well done!" Fergus said again.

"How do I keep that sense?" I asked, coming away.

"You're not going to master it overnight. It's like your impossible grip with longbows." The king shook his head. "You need to keep practicing with your eyes closed to listen for those sounds."

I took King Fergus's advice to heart as I replaced the blade. Toothless licked my new bruises; I closed my eyes to hear the sound of his tongue lapping against the damaged skin. For a moment I felt like I could grasp a glorious gift reserved for traditional heroes, that I could actually stand among men like my father without a dragon.

I made a promise to learn to hear better, and that ended up saving me. A few more people wanted to swing deadly weapons at my head.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Shara Raizel- Sorry to say it, but Hiccup's archery won't be coming along well. He does learn how to fence, though. **

Although I wasn't told to, I kept on listening for the sounds that every object made, weapon or not. That was easy when watching the guards practice combat or when reading in the study, but Toothless had to guide me when I attempted to walk with closed eyes. The walls and pillars rewarded me with hard bumps, and the triplets presented me with tripwires in every doorway. I soon gained a few lumps and stern lectures to watch where I was going.

One time I even stumbled into the bear room, and when no one told me to get out, I spent time exploring the different carvings. They each bore a feathery CC.

Curious, I asked around. Maudie said she had never heard of the Crafty Carver, but nothing that came from the bear room boded well. King Fergus twirled his beard and said he hadn't heard of the name either; Merida was listening, and she had pursed her thin lips. Morgan handed me the heaviest spear he could find and ordered me to polish every greasy spot. The guards told me not to ask questions, they didn't know.

A week passed. I wrote more letters to Astrid and Dad. The queen watched every lesson. So did the castle servants. I got used to the concern and the hostile stares the way a Monstrous Nightmare gets used to setting itself on fire. No one offered kindness except Maudie, and I didn't ask for it. Morgan remained bad-tempered, although he honored every weapon repaired with credits. His daughter's name was Svala, and she had loved apples ripened in the autumn. He hadn't seen her for ten years, although he remembered her abductor's Viking flag had boars on it. I relayed the information to Astrid.

At night I got into the habit of sneaking out to sleep with Toothless, nestled under his wings. Alvin and the hooded slaves haunted my dreams, not letting me escape to wakefulness; at times I would check my arms for chain bruises and a writhing Slavemark. Toothless's warm scales shielded me from the nightmares so that I could function in the daytime on four to five hours of sleep. Queen Elinor's lessons got harder, now that I could read Scottish fluently. I learned to project my voice through a great hall, and projecting required energy.

A light would always come on in the castle windows as I walked through the shrouded night. I would see a tall silhouette with upturned lips and a disapproving stare. My back would turn, not acknowledging the queen's presence. If she wanted me to stay in the castle, she could tell me in the daytime or when we were at lessons. Instead, she had introduced me to afternoon tea and milk.

After that week, I crept earlier than usual to the stables. My fist clenched a small rusty sword, crusted with disuse. If swords could bear litters, this blade would have been considered a runt like me. It had been left on my bed, wrapped in leather. When I had undone the straps, the Berk crest gleamed from the handle. So did a small note, written in the queen's handwriting.

_This belonged to Hamish Horrendous Haddock II and rightfully belongs to you. Its name is Endeavor. _

I had forgotten that Hamish II had also been a hiccup, and I hadn't known he was left-handed. When I tried a few practice swings, the my fingers fit around the old handle with ease for the first time. The blade could barely nick, but the edge was sharp. I rubbed my finger along the blade, wiped the grey rust on a bedpost, and stared at the crest. Still visible even with age, and it reminded me of home. Home reminded me of Toothless, and then I couldn't even try to sleep.

My metal leg left small imprints in the grass. Dampness gathered under the dragon teeth gloves. Thoughts of how Hamish had adapted to fencing lessons and writing in two languages filled my head. The moon had covered itself with the stars as a sparkly blanket; darkness settled over the courtyard. Only a faint, grassy smell and ale fumes forced their way through the darkness.

I stopped. That smell! It couldn't be, not here in Scotland. I sniffed again. The aroma didn't go away.

_Gods, not now! Not in the middle of the night._

Darkness heightened hearing. I listened. Breathing, shallow but interrupting the stillness. My heart pounded. Light footsteps, as if a ghost were tiptoeing in leather boots. Not the queen, because her light still hung in the window. A heavy weapon whistling through the air. From . . behind!

I turned and dodged the black object, feet snapping to the right. A heavy bludgeon swung down. Two seconds earlier, and it would have connected with my neck. Someone with hairy arms apparently thought I looked better with a broken backbone. Someone who growled with frustration and snorted with midnight cold.

The object swung again as I ran to the stables. Even then, I knew what I would find: a limp Toothless, surrounded by dried dragon nip. The dead leaves covered him like a coat of green, blood-sucking insects, as did thick ropes that bound his legs and mouth. Although his eyes glazed, they conveyed one clear message: _RUN!_

"No, bud," I said loudly, turning to face my attacker. "I'm not letting them take you again."

Endeavor's sheath fell. I turned and held the blade at an acute angle, keeping my right foot forward and the left slanted away. The pose came automatically with the thought that I had to fight. Fergus and Merida had trained me well. If only they were awake to offer criticism.

The attacker's silhouette came into focus. One of the farmhands, clutching a thick weapon and a gunnysack. At least, that's what he wanted me to think.

Faint starlight gleamed. The figure snarled and charged. Crooked teeth, a trademark beard. Grounding would not help in this case. I leaped to the side as his bludgeon lodged in the stable's wood wall. Splinters crashed down. Angus in the next stall whinnied and reared.

Distracted, the Outcast slapped the wall with one hand to shut the horse up while yanking at his weapon with the other. The gunnysack fell from his distracted hands. Angus kept whinnying as if _he_ were the one getting attacked.

"Oh gods!" I exclaimed with loud exasperation, twisting around to slash his neck with the loudness was to alert the guards nearby, the exasperation to push down the fear.

The Outcast yelped, but instead of the sickening sound of steel biting flesh, a heavy clink. My eyes widened as I slipped away. Another slash at the throat, more grating clinks. He was wearing a metal collar, to protect his precious veins. He had been _prepared_.

He used a free fist to knock me back. I hit the ground and wobbled. He grabbed the opportunity to toss the gunnysack. There was no time to dodge.

It came down slowly, like a tidal wave over a drowning man. Brown, discolored cloth, smelling faintly of the sea. A month ago I would have panicked when it hit my face.

As it were, my sword hand saved me when my mind went blank. I held onto Endeavor and slashed so that the sack got cut in two. The gesture came automatically, as it always had during lessons. The resulting sweep gloriously cut through the air and left the sack in coarse ribbons. They fluttered like torn handkerchiefs.

"Is that all you've got? You lousy Outcasts are getting lousier!" I shouted, moving away from the stables, praying to the gods that this man hadn't been trained to talk while fighting. It said something that I couldn't think of anything cleverer to say like I normally would. _Please be stupid, please be stupid . . ._

The guards were not responding to the yells, for whatever reason. Not that it mattered. They wouldn't come in time. My attacker's bulging leg muscles guaranteed that sprinting to the castle wasn't an option, and I wouldn't leave my dragon.

I took a wide stance and turned so that my left shoulder was exposed. The prosthetic slid in the grass. My attacker came forward, charging and yelling with the bludgeon. The king's fencing lessons came back to me.

_Now Hiccup, imagine I'm attacking you with a heavy weapon. What would be your strategy?_

"Endurance," I muttered, dancing around the Outcast's larger legs. He turned and swung with vigor. Compared to the soft whistling of sword strokes, the hammer's blows deafened the air and shattered the Scottish silence. I did not dare block them, for both my blade and the gloves would shatter, but each one announced its presence with pomp and violence. Instead, I twisted my body away from the strokes moments before they even swung and tapped. The Outcast roared as I pricked along his body, feeling for flesh and jabbing harder when I found it.

I found a few favorite spots: under the armpits and along the sides. Endeavor was hungry for blood, but the sword only scraped at flesh. His tunic got slashed with sleek diagonals, and the sound of tearing fabric punctured the air. He swung his bludgeon more fiercely and actually caught the sword at one point. I let the blade swing back to take the impact. We danced around each other, myself light-footed and him like a bear in ballet shoes. I somehow kept my body slanted as we moved.

This felt too easy. Was I actually going to win? Me, against a stupid, stronger Viking?

Not unless I got the higher ground; Endeavor could only probe, and I was tired. Judging by the Outcast's vigorous blows despite the passing hour, he had slept all day to gather the strength for abduction. He would block any blows to the chest, and I couldn't risk my rusty weapon against his hammer. My feet grew sluggish and complained in chorus with aching leg muscles. Endurance as a strategy could not last.

Angus sprinted into the courtyard, whinnying at the top of his lungs. If my shouting hadn't alerted the guards, surely a rampant horse would. Even so, an idea formed in my mind as I sidestepped the panicked hooves. Sprint to gain distance, spot a bale of hay in the dark, snatch up the sack's long tatters. Jump on the hay and make sure it wouldn't collapse into scattered straw.

Then I stopped moving. Bent to hold the ribbons of coarse fabric and waited on top of the bale. The Outcast couldn't resist such bait. I only hoped I could resist him.

He approached at a sprint as well, using both arms to swing his bludgeon. As it was about to come down, I tossed the sack as his face. He got blinded. I used the distraction to punch his nose. He reeled. A quick blow to the head from Endeavor's hilt knocked him down. The bludgeon fell on his foot, making him howl. I hit him two more times, aiming for the part of his neck not wrapped in metal. Only after the third time did his head droop to the ground. I found myself breathing hard.

It wasn't until I had retrieved the other half of the sack and used it to bind his hands that the situation set in. I had won. By the grace of Odin, I had _won_.

"Hiccup!" Elinor ran out, decked in a dressing gown. She carried a bow, as did the three guards behind her. "Are you hurt?"

"No, thanks to the king's fencing lessons." I had to take a few breaths to say this. Angus stopped galloping when he rested beside the queen.

"He attacked first," the Outcast tried to call out in a broken Scottish accent. "The boy's brain's been boiled by the evening heat!"

Elinor aimed the bow's notched arrow at his head; everyone stared at her. Anger quivered through her skirts, though her voice was deadly calm.

"How dare you lie in front of your queen," she said. "And how dare you attack a diplomat who has never raised a finger against you. I saw it all from the window." She came closer, and the Outcast recoiled. "Is your rage against Vikings so that you'll attack an innocent boy?"

"Excuse me, Your Majesty." I had to interrupt. "He's not a real farmhand."

She stopped. The guards looked suspicious.

"He's an Outcast, a rogue Viking." I picked up the bludgeon and handed it to her. "No farmhand would carry a weapon like this."

She examined the weapon with distaste. Her small retinue clambered past and surrounded the bound Outcast.

"Who hired you?" I asked the man harshly. "Did Norbert the Nutjob send you?"

He sneered. "Don't be stupid, boy. Alvin's got more eyes than me at the castle."

That froze me.

"Stand down, Hiccup," Elinor ordered. "We'll interrogate him and find out why he attacked you."

The Outcast gave a harsh laugh. "The boy already knows why. Quite a clever Dragon Conqueror if not a People Conqueror."

"Dragon Trainer!" I snapped. "And Alvin's throat was slit in two places-"

"He got better." His grin was visible even in the dark. "_Much_ better."

"Hiccup, go inside. Now. I'll have Maudie prepare a drink for you." Elinor's look offered no room for bargaining.

"Toothless." I gestured to the stable. "He's been tied up and sedated. I need to help him."

"Fine. Help him first. Then let's get you_ both_ to the castle. This shouldn't have happened."

No, it shouldn't have. A guard stood by as an escort. I caught a glimpse of the man's sneering face as the dragon teeth slashed through Toothless's bonds.

My dragon groaned, and I had to help him to his four feet. We staggered to the castle, refusing the guard's help. This was something we had to do together, by ourselves.

Merida came out in a white dressing gown. She held Angus's reins and talked to him soothingly, in tones I had never heard before. There was concern. He rested his head against hers.

A softness came over me as well as she gave me a suspicious look. Her mount hadn't been attacked, but she cared.

Maybe the princess did have a heart.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Shara Raizel- The royals can probably handle it. Hiccup revealing it, though? He probably can't at this point. **

**HolyFurryFish- You have to thank my beta reader for that. :) He's the reason why the writing improved dramatically, though he's so darn modest. **

Toothless and I had made it to the kitchen before we collapsed. Sweat drowned us. I fell against him, panting. My dragon had the excuse of fighting sedation; I just had minor strength. _Iron determination, eel muscles._

Maudie fussed over us. I kept trying to tell her that I was fine, but she still shoved a cup of tea into my shaking hands. Vikings and Scots may have been sworn enemies, but they had the same response to helping a shocked victim: a strong drink. The Vikings preferred mead, the Scots used tea. A cup of strong, mud-brown tea swirling with sugar on the bottom.

"Maudie, I really am fine." I placed a hand on Toothless's head to help myself stand and used the other to hold the tea. My legs wobbled. Maudie had to slide a wooden stool so that I could sit. Tea spilled and dripped on the floor.

Merida came in, almost stomping. She grabbed another stool and set it in front of me. Then she sat, fists balled.

"I'm not sure whether to thank you for not getting my horse hurt or interrogating you, draugr," she said with a fierce voice. "That man called you 'Dragon Conqueror' and was after you. Why?"

"It has nothing to do with the bruises," I told her.

"I wasn't even going to ask about that." She tossed her hair back and thrust her hand out. Maudie placed a brimming tea cup between her fingers.

"Actually, I'm the one who should be thanking you."

This caught her off-guard. "Why?"

"You taught me how to fight while talking, and to anticipate blows," I told her. "That saved my life, and Toothless's."

My dragon placed his head on Merida's lap. She petted him, letting her fist relax.

"You're welcome, draugr. You can pay me back by telling me why that man attacked you."

I sighed. "It's a long, long story." One that I had hoped would conclude in the Archipelago.

"We have time." Merida waved her hand. She clenched the cup as if it were a small missile. "Why are you called 'Dragon Conqueror'?"

I sipped. Cloyingly sweet tea, with hints of fruit. "A man named Alvin the Treacherous bestowed that title on me. It's actually 'Dragon Trainer.'"

"Alvin the Treacherous." She considered. I drank more tea. "Sounds like a dangerous fellow."

"Very dangerous. Wants me to train . . ." That was what I managed before my tongue swelled up. Vision blurred.

Shattering; the tea cup had fallen to the ground. I mumbled an apology, tried to bend down and pick up the pieces. Felt myself tumbling head-first.

"Hiccup?" Maudie's voice, her soft hands catching me. Toothless's concerned warble, moving from Merida's lap to mine.

Merida's blurred figure, crouching by the tea cup shards. A thin finger shot out to lap up some liquid, to taste it.

"Nightshade!" she cried, her voice breaking through the dizziness. "Maudie, you put nightshade in his tea! It's deadly poison!"

"I did not!" Maudie cried back. "Hiccup! Can you hear me?"

I managed a nod. Viking pride, even when poisoned. That's when I stopped hearing words clearly.

Clamoring voices. More shouting, Maudie crying. No loss of consciousness, which meant that I felt the humiliating loss of movement, of being carried in someone's arms. Not being able to wrench away the long fingers stroking my hair with concern. The strong sensation that unfriendly eyes were watching, eyes that had entered my nightmares. Then being tucked into the same thick sheets that drowned me. I tried to cry out, to tell them not to leave me, but the words got mangled into blurry moans. Not for lack of trying, though; at one point the same long fingers pressed against my cheek and told me to relax.

Perhaps I slipped into unfriendly nightmares, more twisted than before: the Outcast chasing me again in the stables, this time using his bludgeon to shatter the sword and the gloves, ripping them off my hands. A bound, sedated Toothless sinking into a cold ocean, chained and waiting for the water to enter his lungs as I pulled at his bonds and felt cold sweep over me. Only choice to drown with him and drift in the unfeeling current. No dad to pull us out.

That cold clamped around my mouth, forcing the lips together, solidifying into thick hands with short fingers. A hairy elbow jabbing into my chest, filtering the flow of air so that only a trickle entered.

"Like that little trick?" Alvin asked in a whisper, keeping his hand over my lips. "Nothing like sweet berries slipped into tea. The guards needed it in their ale."

I attempted to move and found myself pinned; the stupid bed sheets! Alvin wasn't even putting effort to keep me prone; he relaxed and leaned over the bed.

_Wake up, Hiccup. Wake up! This isn't real. _

"In case you're wondering, they've set up a guard. Your dragon's outside, waiting for permission to enter." Alvin stretched back; he had grown his beard to cover his neck. "They think you're in here getting a decent night's sleep. Quite decent folk, if too trusting."

_Just a dream, just a dream. Alvin can't be here without the guards noticing._ Even with that thought, fear flooded my entire body. No sarcastic thoughts came through.

Alvin smiled on seeing my attempts to scramble away. Useless, as were the involuntary screams that he stifled. His hand reached and grabbed Endeavor from nowhere. The sword still shed rust.

"That was impressive swordplay, I'll give you that. Could never resist a good fight, so I let you win. This time. But don't fool yourself." Keeping his elbow against my throat, he grasped the blade in both hands and bent it. His elbow stifled my cry, but the snap echoed through the room.

Endeavor fell to the floor in two pieces. I couldn't help but moan.

"You think they actually like you, boy, but you're just an amusement, an experiment. I could carry you off now and no one would notice, not even that sharp-eyed queen. But I'm an honorable man, so I'll give you a choice. Leave now, quietly, and we'll settle this as you and your dragon against my Outcasts. Stay, and you'll find yourself taken when you least expect it. The royal kids and their mother may get caught in the crossfire."

That wasn't a choice at all. But Alvin wasn't honorable either.

"Think about it, boy." He placed his hand over my mouth again, cupping it. "At least if you leave, you'll be able to keep your tongue. Can't say the same if you stay. No one likes Vikings in Scotland, especially mysterious ones."

I felt myself turned over and heard the swing of a heavy sword. The hilt connected with my neck, towards a knot of nerves. Sparks of pain and unconsciousness. Alvin's voice graced the growing darkness.

"That was for my throat."

* * *

Thank the gods that no hands were running over my face when I revived. Unlike most of my nightmares, the awakening had been more slow. There was no guarantee that I had exited a false, terrifying realm of alternate memories and dead foes.

Still, I believed that it had just been a hallucination. Wasn't the first time my mind had concocted dreadful images to expel poison.

The room was unfamiliar, walls laden with white tapestries and the floor crammed with beds. Toothless curled around me, careful not to collapse his entire weight onto me. I hugged him, clinging to his scales.

Queen Elinor put down the book she was reading. Her face was grim, but she remained placid. She had changed into her usual green day gown.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "You've been out for a while. There's a large bump on your neck that wasn't there before."

I touched the spot gingerly. Toothless licked at it. Red skin swelled in a painful ball. My chest also felt bruised.

That didn't mean anything. The snake poison on Frigga's Promise had made me more vulnerable to Astrid's punching. Maybe deadly berries shared the same medicinal properties.

"You're in the infirmary," Queen Elinor said. "Your dragon spent the entire time licking you; perhaps that's why you didn't . . ."

"Die?" I tried to suggest lightly; my throat hurt. I coughed.

"I was going to say succumb to fever. Someone mixed in nightshade with Maudie's usual brew; she had left the pot alone for a few minutes-"

"Maudie would never hurt anyone," I said more sharply than intended. "She was the first person who was nice to me in Dunbroch, excusing yourself, Your Majesty."

Queen Elinor took a deep breath. "Maudie would appreciate that, but I wish you would call me Elinor. We don't need all this formality."

Not what I wanted to hear now. "But you're the queen, and I'm a Viking with a few unsavory enemies. Why did you wait for me to wake?"

The graveness covered her face like a thin mask. "It wasn't a random attack; it was systematic, designed so that the servants here in Dunbroch would have gotten the blame for your disappearance."

That did explain the tea and why the Outcast had been dressed as a farmhand.

"Whoever it was planted spies in the castle, those who took on jobs as domestic help." Her lips quivered. "While one attacked you and Toothless outside, several more broke into your quarters. One in the kitchen drugged the ale and tea, so as to incapacitate any help on the way. When that didn't work, they went after you more directly."

Oh gods, not again. I sat up straight. So did Toothless.

"And?"

"Everything that you brought from Berk was destroyed," she said, and for the first time her voice betrayed sorrow. "The satchel was thrown into the nearest fireplace, every piece of clothing torn to shreds, and all the papers ripped, even the letters that I sent."

Cold shock ran over me. Alvin had done the same thing on Berk, only he had taken my stuff rather than destroyed it.

"Once we discovered that, we found the infirmary barred. Toothless and the rest of us tried to break down the door, but someone had lodged furniture in front of it. We only got in when my sons found a secret passage in and opened the door from the inside."

This sunk in with a horrible pause. "Please tell me they found myself sleeping and writhing in hallucination, and that Endeavor was intact on the floor," I whispered.

Elinor looked away. I turned to see the three boys marching forward, more somber than I had ever seen them.

The triplet in the middle held my ancestor's sword, trying to join it together. The other two had the remnants of my gloves; someone had taken the time to cut the straps and then smash the metal and teeth.

"Who did this?" I asked sharply, looking into all their green eyes. "Did you see?"

Endeavor's pieces fell, as did the gloves with a heavy clank. The triplets all met my frantic gaze. Their coolness made the words more unsettling. By now I could tell them apart.

"A bad man," Hamish said. He stood in the middle.

"With a beard," Hubert added from Hamish's left.

"And big hands," Harris finished. He gestured, miming a sword striking Hamish's neck. Hamish went down as if limp.

* * *

My feet started moving before my mind did, and pain throbbed with each step. I took ragged breaths and swung myself past the queen and her sons. Running was not an option, but I managed limping steps. The guards could not react because I brushed past them as if they were mere tree branches in the way. Liquid hysteria flowed through my veins.

Gods, Alvin had been in the castle. He had really been in this room, Odin help me. I needed to get out, before he came back.

My weapons; he had smashed them! When I was helpless! The gloves may have killed, but they had saved my life on many occasions. I had made them.

And Endeavor? It had felt like an extension of my left hand and a piece of Berk. And I had wielded it for one glorious, terrifying hour.

Daylight, cold and indifferent. Hallways filled with astonished people, obstacles to push past. Toothless followed, poking his nose at my side. He warbled with concern. I paid no attention to him, only wanting to put one foot in front of the other.

"Hiccup, where do you think you are going?" The queen had caught up, her longer legs having the advantage.

"Out. Away."

She grabbed me, forcing me to stop. I would have yanked my shoulder from her arm, except Toothless took the opportunity to overtake me and block the way. My breathing verged into hyperventilating.

"You can't leave. It's not safe."

"That's why . . ." Toothless lifted his wings so I couldn't step over them. "Toothless! We have to go!"

"Why?" Elinor asked.

Thoughts wouldn't come together; fear spread them into incomprehensible images. Things would make sense once we were in the air.

"Hiccup. You've just been poisoned with nightshade and are in no shape to go anywhere."

"That doesn't matter!" My voice cracked. Just to see the blue sky, to get on Toothless and soar away from the cursed ground, away from _him_. Alvin may have destroyed the map back to Berk, but he couldn't track us down through the clouds.

Elinor's hand moved from my shoulder. A sharp pain shot through my ear as she twisted at it. I felt my body moving backwards as she pulled, back in the direction from which I had come.

"You're not leaving."

"You don't understand! He was in here! He can get in and out any time he wants!" I was babbling this through gasps of pain, knowing I was making a scene and not making sense. Too many surprised, curious stares. Back to the infirmary with the white tapestries, back to the bed, being sat down there. Triplets booted out, as were several servants.

Elinor let go of my ear and waited. Toothless went to the door and guarded it; he had chosen his loyalties. I rambled about burnt castles and the queen's children getting threatened and safety in the air. She spoke when my throat got hoarse.

"Hiccup, we knew what we were getting into when we invited you to come."

"You don't know about this man," I responded. "He doesn't give up, not even when death takes him. He's tried this trick before."

"Like the men who attempted to enslave you on Frigga's Promise."

That stopped all thoughts dead. I gaped at her.

"We received a letter from the island, detailing what had happened." The queen's voice was calm, even as emotional torrents crashed on me. "About how Alvin had destroyed your reputation, so that the other chiefs turned against you and your father, and how the hooded rogues attempted to brand you."

I buried my face in my hands. The ear pulling seemed more favorable than this.

"The letter writer, a Greek slave who had corresponded with us before, was concerned and pleaded that we take you in. He said you had been broken by what had happened and had no allies in the Archipelago."

"I am going to kill Jason," I muttered through red fingers.

"Hiccup-"

"I don't need pity." I tried to spit this out but found my voice still cracking. "Toothless and I have faced worse."

"No one here pities you. What happened wasn't your fault." Elinor's voice remained firm. "Not what happened here or on Frigga's Promise. What those Vikings did was horrible."

"I'm a Viking too!" I burst out. "That makes me horrible, for not getting past it! I'm supposed to be tough and seeking adventure!"

"You're not horrible. You're a boy; this is a battle you shouldn't be fighting." She took a handkerchief and wiped my smoldering eyes. Soft lace and embroidered flowers. I tried to bat her hands away, but it was hard to see, and the gesture was tender.

"Vikings don't cry."

She wrapped her arms around me. Guilty dampness soaked into her dress.

"Then maybe you're not a Viking anymore."

That did it. I found myself sobbing as she rocked me the way a mother would rock her baby after a terrifying nightmare, the way my father had hugged me on Berk. Though it went against every grain in my body, against every summoned up inch of pride, I let the queen comfort me.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**InfiniteChanges- Yes, oh sad day. RIP, Endeavor.**

**Shara Raizel- Alvin's definitely good at doing that. And you're not the only one who wants to hug Hiccup; plenty of readers want to do the same. He went through a traumatic ordeal. **

Castles with closed doors did not nurture Vikings. Elinor may have said that I was no longer one, but I craved the need for clean sunshine, for outside air, for freedom. It wasn't just the double guards posted at the infirmary doors; it was knowing that Alvin had walked in and vanished, with the threat of hurting people if I didn't come willingly.

It was knowing that I wasn't in control of my life anymore.

Elinor had known. She had known I had nearly become a Viking slave. That was why . . . oh gods, that night when she had asked what "they" had done to me. What's to say Merida and Fergus and the whole castle hadn't found out as well? Had they been humoring me this whole time? Had they known I was "broken" and pitied me? Was that why they had given me and Toothless protection? Because the Archipelago had turned against Berk?

The physical sickness passed; the emotional one didn't. People came in smelled of clean linen and autumn breezes. Elinor was quiet and only stroked my hair, rocking me through terrible nightmares. The servants were scared, so they didn't talk. There didn't seem to be a point in seeing any of them, except with Maudie. Regret had permanently twisted her face. She had taken up nail-biting again so that her fingers bled. I insisted on seeing her each day, telling her to scratch Toothless and that it wasn't her fault. Even though my appetite had vanished again, I ate every morsel that she brought me. She needed comfort and reassurance, and I needed the faith that Alvin couldn't convince a Scot to work with him.

Except with Maudie, betrayal and paranoia hung over me. Every person I had met came under scrutiny, stirred with bitterness Jason had concocted the scheme to exile me from Berk, and he had told our enemies about the attack. Good intentions, yes, and he had saved me from slavery, but he had called me broken. Broken! As if I were a knickknack that Gobber had swept off the shelf by accident.

Toothless tried to force me out of bed, even though we couldn't leave. I heard the bolts being slipped back each time the door opened. Toothless seemed to think we could still have fun. Ridiculous. I wrapped the sheets tighter around me as if in a cocoon. He made a game of poking his tongue into the folds, searching for my face. If he did, I managed a laugh to get him to stop. We could have left ages ago, before Alvin had destroyed the map, if only I hadn't promised Jason. What did that promise mean? Now there was no chance of leaving, not with the guards and Elinor's words.

Guilt mixed in with the betrayal. Why hadn't I spoken for myself on Frigga's Promise? I didn't mean to withhold dragon training from other tribes. I had been careful not to do so after seeing Toothless getting caught in the Kill Ring. I had lost my leg saving Berk and the Archipelago from the Green Death when our village could have teamed up with the dragons in a more organized fashion. Why hadn't I made the Dragon Academy public earlier, before Alvin had crafted that Wanted poster? Then he would have had no dung to fuel his fire.

Nothing would get me out of bed, even when I felt physically sound. It's where Elinor wanted me anyway, and Fishlegs had advised me to humor the queen. The sheets provided the only form of comfort that made sense, the only means by which to block out the barred door.

Then the last person I expected came. Merida walked in, loaded with the usual tray and an arrow laden with fish. Toothless's mouth open, and she tossed the arrow to him. He ripped off each river salmon with shameless gusto. If not for that performance, then I would have hidden under the covers and feigned sleep.

Merida looked nervous; she shifted from one foot to the other, hands empty once she had set the tray down. Toothless gave her a reassuring warble. As if the noise jolted her, Merida opened her mouth and spoke rapidly.

"Hiccup, I'm so sorry."

She clammed up again. I gave her a hard glance

"I preferred it when you called me draugr. Did your mother send you here on a condolence visit?"

Merida shook her head.

"Then why are you here?"

She knelt by Toothless and started petting him, perhaps for confidence. A long pause.

"Morgan's trying to repair the blade; I asked him to."

"It's beyond repair." After snapping it, Alvin had twisted the blade pieces so that each piece of metal snarled into thick thorns. Even if a strong man hammered the blade into flatness, the distortions would remain. Only a desperate man would attempt to fence with it.

Maybe that was why Elinor had taken away the pieces. I would keep fitting them together, trying to find a means by which to weld them together. The despair on my face was becoming a permanent mask, and I kept hearing the snap and my own muffled response. Throwing away the metal for scraps felt like spitting on Hamish II's painting with his father.

Her voice got softer. "I know what you're going through. Mum did the same to me last year."

My bitterness twisted into a smile. "Is this how she treats everyone she cares about? Locks them up when they don't listen?"

Merida gave a sarcastic laugh. "More or less."

"Why couldn't she be cruel and cold-hearted?" I dropped my head. This was ungrateful, and I knew it. "Why does she have to care?"

Merida knelt on the floor. Her skirts folded into a neat, green pile. The words didn't prick any protective retorts for her mother, though she did look fierce.

"If you had any sense, you'd tell her to turn me and Toothless out of the castle." My dragon stopped chewing when hearing this bitterness. "The longer I'm here, the more danger you're in. He- Alvin- he threatened you and your brothers."

"He'd have quite a job acting on that that. And if this Alvin wanted to carry you off, he would have done so already." I welcomed her dry tone. "You've been locked up here for a week and he hasn't reappeared, draugr. Mum's locked up his cronies, and the boys are making sure all the keys are out of reach. The question is why this Viking is so fixated on you that he'd risk losing his head."

"He isn't risking anything!" I told her. "He's immortal, so head chopping wouldn't work."

A half-snort. "I suppose there are spirits watching out for him."

"A god actually. Loki, our trickster God. Apparently Alvin impressed him with his wits."

"No man is immortal, draugr. What makes you think this man is different?"

I closed my eyes. "Because I slit his throat with the dragon teeth gloves, and he laughed."

Merida stopped looking incredulous.

"The only way I can stop Alvin is if I talk to the trickster god. To talk to a god, you need to create a small statue for them or pray. That's why I wanted to see the Crafty Carver; to commission a statue of Loki."

"You're serious," she said, looking wide-eyed. "You're asking the Crafty Carver for an actual wood carving."

"Those are her carvings in the bear room, aren't they?" I fixed a piercing gaze at her. "Why so much of a secret?"

Merida glared. The pride in her expression struggled with sincerity.

"If you can't tell me that, can you at least tell me why the queen is willing to risk her family's safety for me and Toothless?" I asked.

"That's because of me," she said. "I put the idea in my mum's head."

"What?"

Merida looked away. "'Fate be changed, look inside, mend the bond torn by pride,'" she muttered. "That was the only way to break the spell. Mum almost became a bear forever, Mordu could have murdered all of us, and I nearly started a four-way war. After that, Mum didn't want our family to splinter up again."

"I'm not following you," I said. "What spell? Elinor became a bear?"

She placed a hand on Toothless's snout. That gave her the courage. She then pulled out a blackened, curved piece of wood from under her skirt.

"My mum, she tried to force me into an arranged marriage. We had a fight. She threw this, my favorite bow, into the fire." Her voice was filled with self-loathing and regret. "I ran away, found myself in the witch's cottage. In exchange for buying all her carvings, she gave me a spell. To change my mother."

That made me sit up.

"The Crafty Carver is a witch?"

"What did you think she was? A bag lady?"

"No, I thought she was a wood carver." The pieces came together: the tapestry with Merida and the black bear, Fergus nearly killing his wife, the bear room taboo and not talked about. "Great gods, you turned your mother into a bear."

"I didn't know it would change her into a bear!" she snapped. "Just thought it would change her."

"And you didn't specify?" I refrained from calling Merida an idiot. "Even if you had, why play with magic?"

"You want to play with gods!"

"Negotiate! Reason with them!"

"Why? And why through a witch?"

"Because I don't have a choice!" My voice rose. I got up and paced. "It's either talk with the trickster god, pray that I can convince him, or spend the rest of my life resisting Alvin's attempts on me and Toothless!"

"You could stay here!" Merida's voice also rose. "We can protect you, Hiccup."

"He already broke in once, Merida. I don't want Dunbroch burnt to the ground like Berk was! People shouldn't be getting in line to protect me, least of all Scots!"

Toothless came between us and growled.

"Bud, surely you can't take her side on this. Alvin "

Toothless shot daggers at both of us. Merida stood up also, but her posture was less hostile.

"Your home was burnt to the ground?" she whispered.

I nodded. "And when we tried to ask for aid, he had already turned the Viking tribes against us. We barely got help." I looked at my left arm. "Some chiefs didn't even see me as a chief's son. They only saw me as a weapon, a deadly tool."

Merida backed away. She bent over the tray and rearranged it. I placed my hands on Toothless to calm my heart.

"I'm not proud of what I did, Hiccup," Merida said. "But you really think going to the witch will solve your problems? She didn't solve mine."

"I don't know if she will," I said wearily. "But it's the only thing I've got."

She straightened up. "Fine."

"Fine?"

"I'll take you to the Crafty Carver, if that's her name. Since you only want a carving, she'll probably be nice to you." She handed me an apple from the tray. "I'll talk to Mum."

* * *

The queen entered early the next morning. She carried a rolled tapestry under one arm. Although one end sagged, she kept the linen off the ground. Her face remained regal, but irritation and concern tugged at the corners of her mouth. I didn't dare think how my face looked. We exchanged morning greetings the way Vikings exchanged items with Trader Johann.

I couldn't picture the queen as a bear. Frost Giants had once turned Thor into one, but Thor was a massive god to begin with. Elinor kept her face and posture composed, as if she had never grown fur or claws.

"You slept better last night. We're all relieved."

I bet everyone was. They had heard my fists scraping at the barred door for the past week, my wordless screams against the locks. Last night, however, I hadn't slept at all, or maybe I had and had dreamed of staying awake in a hot room. Talking to Merida had provided a sliver of hope, a fragile shield against the plaguing nightmares.

"You think that we're showing you kindness for no reason."

I was scratching Toothless under the chin; that kept my voice calm. "Merida mentioned that there has been a campaign to mend family bonds. Elinor, if you care about your family, you can't risk your children's safety to save one stranger."

"You've been here for a month; that doesn't make you a stranger."

"But I'm not family, and I shouldn't be treated as such."

Elinor unrolled the tapestry. It fell on the bed like a thick, gold-laden blanket. Circles of yellow and green thread, splashed against thick linen. A blond, short youth holding a redheaded bride; they were huddled too close for my comfort. I suppressed a shudder.

"Do you know who this man was, Hiccup?"

"No. No Viking helmet, so I can't identify him."

"This was your ancestor, Hamish II. This was a wedding present for him and Princess Una, firstborn of Dunbroch. "

"What?" I stood to get a closer look at the tapestry. Now that she mentioned it, the youth was definitely a hiccup like me, on the shorter and scrawny side.

"It's a tale that no one retold out of pride and respect for the wise; I only know it because I listened to every legend in my youth. Tavish was a wise king, but he let jealousy control his youth. Princess Una was to inherit the throne, and the men who played the games for her hand often won easily. Tavish loved his older sister but felt that he would make a better king. The two spend their childhood at odds.

"Hamish Horrendous Haddock of Berk had volunteered his services as a diplomat; he wanted to prove that size did not mean everything. His father had exiled him from Berk for arguing about chief duties. Hamish thought slavery was cruel and inhuman; his father thought they were saving poor souls from dying of idleness. They had also suffered terrible fight."

Exiled? I stroked the gold thread outlining Hamish II's hair. His father and namesake had been nicknamed Grimbeard the Ghastly for a reason, but I didn't think he would banish his own son. Then again, those were the days when fathers left runts on mountainsides to perish from starvation and when Berk still had slaves. We had come a long way since then.

"Hamish was a brash youth, impulsive and always asking questions. He never shied from adventure, however perilous it proved. Small wonder that his intelligent eyes met with Una's, and only tradition kept them from courting. He was in Scotland to negotiate, not to love the firstborn.

"Several years passed. Hamish could not return home, and few Vikings trusted him. He and Princess Una devised a cipher for writing love letters and found excuses to wander the castle grounds, usually to discuss politics or the tribes who would keep raiding settlements. Tavish one day intercepted a message; he couldn't read it, but Una blushed when it got mentioned. He couldn't tolerate Hamish's peaceful approach, but the forbidden romance gave him power. A plan came to his mind, a selfish one.

"Tavish came to his sister, making a proposition: if Una abdicated her position as crown princess, then Hamish could court her properly. Tavish would support her, and wish the couple happiness. If the princess did not do so, then Tavish would expose her affair, civil was it was, and unleash disgrace upon her. Then she would have to abdicate to save the family name.

"Princess Una got proud and angry; she would not let her younger brother bully her for power! They had a loud, angry argument that ended with Tavish storming out in frustration. If he exposed his sister, then he would shame Dunbroch's good name, but Hamish was his only power. The princess soon broke off the covert courting, and Hamish mourned the loss of her companionship. He no longer put his heart into diplomacy, not having an intelligent mind with which to debate. Then he had to leave."

"Why? Did Tavish expose the affair?" I asked.

"No. Hamish's father died; there was a family feud on Berk. Hamish's brother Thugheart, responsible for the feud and the death, was banished, and Hamish was called home. He was the first Viking to ever have exile rescinded, to lead the people before they fell into anarchy, because his father had made the request before dying.

"Hamish and Una were distraught, but Tavish was delighted. He planted the idea into his parents' head that the couple could get married, giving him the throne and them a lifetime of happiness. He played on the romance, on Hamish's determination to never dishonor his hosts' hospitality, and on the princess's innocence. The king and queen believed the younger brother, who cared for his sister so.

"Princess Una objected, but she could not bear Hamish leaving. He had put a quarter of his life into living in the Castle, into stopping the Viking raids on Scottish villages, even into making better defenses against rogue tribes. He had made her laugh, had helped her see the bright side of terrible things. And spending the rest of her life with treacherous, scheming Tavish in the castle did not appeal to her. So she agreed.

"She gave up her position as firstborn and crown princess, married Hamish in a quiet ceremony, and sailed with him to Berk. Hamish left behind his sword Endeavor, as a promise that Berk would never raid Scottish settlements again. Una gave the king and queen a tapestry of her wedding, the one you're holding now. That was when Prince Tavish realized his mistake."

"What mistake?"

"As long as Hamish was in the court, he had kept relations between the Vikings and Scots stable. He knew the right words to appeal to each side, the right weapons to wield when communicating, and the right policies. His replacement was not as good, I can tell you, and the raids started again. More settlements devoid of life, more blood and violence. Una could never journey home, for the raiders sailed too frequently, and she never saw Scotland again.

"She and Hamish lived happily, I assume, for you and your father are descended from them, but Una never forgave her brother for manipulating the throne from her grasp. Her pride, his ambition. Two things that kept Berk from remaining allied with Scotland. From that day on, however, Berk released all its slaves and never bought more. That was one victory for Hamish, among others."

Indeed. Among others. Hamish had also paid tribute to his father and to hiccups everywhere by creating an elaborate treasure hunt. I knew because the treasure hunt had nearly killed me and my friends.

"Wow. Love, tragedy, and family feuds. You could write a ballad about that."

"It's not just a ballad or a legend." Elinor's voice grew stern. "It's your history, Hiccup. Princess Una's blood connects you to our family; that was the bond we're mending now. You are kin."

That made me pause. "So when you say you're not protecting a stranger . . ."

"I mean that I'm protecting one of my own."

Kin. That meant I was related to Merida and the triplets. Not just me either.

"Does my father know?"

"I told him the night you arrived. There's no proof, except for Hamish leaving his sword as a sign of truce, and the tapestry. I assumed that in time you would read the letters detailing the situation, once you had mastered your writing."

I winced. That task had fallen by the wayside. "Who else knows?"

"Fergus, of course. Merida would if she paid attention to her lessons, but I doubt it. No one else."

"Good."

"Good?"

"It's bad enough that the other Viking tribes think I'm a Dragon Conqueror," I said. "If they knew my dad and I had Scottish blood, that would be more than enough reason to attack Berk."

"You always have a home here because of that blood, and because of your kindness."

"My dad couldn't live in a castle."

"No," she admitted. "He does not seem the type who could stay indoors."

Skirmishing from outside; Maudie chasing the triplets, who had stolen a platter of cakes. Giggles of laughter bursting against the castle stones.

"There's another matter. Merida mentioned that you want to go out for a castle ride with her, to explore the grounds on horseback."

Oh. Merida hadn't thought to pass on the details about going to see a witch and commissioning a carving. Then again, given the whole spell that transformed the queen into a bear-

"Yes. I like being outside," I said.

"I don't know if you're well enough."

Yeah, I really hadn't proven my sanity in the past week or so.

"Your Majesty-"

"Elinor."

"Elinor. Toothless and I have been confined for a week. I may or may not be a Viking anymore, but I like having freedom. We need to be outside." _This is a matter of life and immortality, and I'm surprised Merida didn't stress that importance to you._

"So you're not interested in my daughter."

"No!" This was a mild exclamation. "Elinor, Merida is beautiful and brave, but I already have a girlfriend. One who would kill me if I fell in love with another. It wouldn't be a courting ride."

She let a smile escape her stern looks. "Just as well. The Lords would not want their sons to have a rival."

No, especially not a dragon-riding rival. I had heard about each clan's violent, spontaneous pride.

"I can't let you leave the castle. That man Alvin may seize the opportunity to snatch you in the open woods. It's not safe."

_Neither is staying in this room. He already got in once._

"That said, I do not wish to keep you a prisoner." A weary sigh coursed through her body. "You are right in that the winter will come soon, and when the Lords arrive there will be less opportunity to ride."

"It wouldn't be a long ride." I kept my face innocent to hide the lie. "Just to absorb the autumn that everyone else is enjoying."

"You'll need an armed guard for a longer ride. Fergus has been arguing that you need to get out of the castle, if only to sleep better. Toothless would have to stay at the castle."

Toothless opened his eyes on hearing this. He bugged out a bit.

"I can't leave my dragon behind, Elinor." My voice was calm. "Toothless got attacked once when I wasn't there; we need to stay together."

"I wish I could trust that you wouldn't fly off at the first opportunity." She sounded more sad than stern.

"What if I gave my word?"

"Words can be broken. The temptation may be too strong, especially in the face of an attack."

"You don't trust me." My voice was flat. No, I would not yell at the queen again.

"You nearly left when that man smashed your weapons. Not that I blame you, but you didn't feel safe in the castle."

Low blow. Even Toothless narrowed his eyes at that.

"What would it take to earn your trust again?"

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe if you could trust us."

"I've trusted you not to kill me for being a Viking." This was an attempt at humor. She did not smile.

"I meant if you could trust that we want to help you, genuinely," she said. "That we look out for each other."

I could have told her the real reason why I wanted to go out, that I wanted to stop Alvin forever and earn the chance to live my life without his shadow looming over me. That would have been a sign of trust.

Yeah, right. I just would have been locked up sooner, and Merida would probably have questions to answer. I said something else, instead.

"I'll try."


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Sorry for missing yesterday! Updating two chapters today to make up for it. The next one will appear later this evening. **

If I had been asked how to earn a dragon's trust, I would have said merely to throw weapons away and avert your eyes when touching the snout. If I had tried that with the queen, though, she would have locked me up again and splashed cold water against my closed eyes.

I tried other things. Negotiating, calm breathing, squelching the impulse to argue. She said "no," unless I left Toothless behind and let him disappear again. That last part came out before I could stop, and Elinor's eyes blazed. No ear pulling, but she may as well have. Still, there were small victories.

I was allowed to return to the smithy, and not a moment too soon. A week had allowed the weapons to pile up, and with my limited time to repair them, not to mention crafting my own, metalwork would soon become a hassle instead of a means by which to clear my head. If I did work with my hands, then I didn't have to think. Thinking meant fearing Alvin and what he may do.

Yes, I was scared of Alvin. The sensation was new and unwelcome, like a new boot filled with iron shards. Before I could just put on a defiant look and talk back when facing him or his men. Now I could only stare with an open mouth.

Morgan came in during my second day back. Shirtless, I was cleaning the rust off a spear tip and attempting to sharpen it. A secondhand silk tunic hung on the wall, over-sized since I had refused new ones from the tailor. The spare was folded neatly, like an expensive robe.

"About your treatment of Maudie-" he started.

I gave a visible groan. Would it kill for him to lay off?

"- that was a nice thing you did, comforting her."

I stopped groaning.

"Any other Viking would blame the woman who brought poisoned tea. You're more decent than you look."

Morgan set down Endeavor's pieces. The dents on it showed where he had attempted to straighten the distortions.

"You seem to have made quite a few enemies," he commented.

"That's what happens when you train a dragon." I stroked the broken blade's sharp edges, nicking my finger. "Change one fact about the world, and the world wants control over that fact again. Show dragons can be tamed, use them to annihilate."

"Then why stay loyal to these Vikings?" he asked, eyes on the sword crest. "Why keep your ties to a race of people that seeks to destroy and enslave?"

"Not all Vikings are like that," I said defensively. "My father isn't a destroyer. There are no slaves on Berk, and we haven't invaded anyone since the days of the Hamishes." It had helped that dragon raids had isolated each village, meaning that we couldn't leave unless fasting for boat trips.

"Your tribe is an exception." He straightened and his back creaked. "The Scottish blood makes you kinder."

I blanched.

"Hiccup, the whole castle knows." That he had called me by my given name didn't restore the color to my face. "Why else would the queen offer you such protection? It's like Mordu came back and threatened her daughter again. We may serve the queen, but we're not stupid. All the walls have ears."

Oh gods. I dropped the spear. It thudded against the prosthetic.

"I don't know why you're ashamed of it." Morgan's grumpiness returned as he retrieved the spear. "If anything, you should be proud to be related to the queen. You share her wits, bravery and heart."

"It's not shame," I told him in a hardened tone. "It's about knowing who I am, and if I can return home. You can teach me to fence, you can teach me Scottish letters, but you can't take the Viking out of me anymore than you could take the dragon-nature out of Toothless."

"But why return home if they don't want you there?" Morgan challenged me. "If the Vikings wanted you back, they wouldn't have sent you here."

"My dad didn't agree to send me away." I turned away from Morgan. "Nor did Mogadon of the Meathead tribe."

"But the other chiefs did."

There was no answer to that.

"I can tell you this. I don't like Vikings, but I like you, as do the queen and her family," he said. "Which means you'll always be welcome here."

"Yeah," I said dryly. "No other apprentice would wipe off every fleck of rust."

He tossed the cleaning cloth; it whapped me in the head.

"You know what I mean, highness."

"Highness?" I started. "I'm not one of the royals."

"To me you are," he said. The scary thing was that he meant it.

* * *

Morgan's words left me more unsettled than they should have. It meant that he liked me, that he would treat me like one of the royals, and that I'd have free run of the smithy. It meant that he actually cared that Alvin had left two large bruises on my chest, mingling with the old ones. At this rate I'd have to get them made into tattoos to gain some unified, glorious scarring.

Loyalty to my father and caution held back rejoicing. Morgan liked me because I was part Scot. Never mind that I had been a dutiful apprentice, not talking back or reporting his bigoted rants to the queen. Never mind that several hundred years of Viking marriage had diluted that blood to a mere trickle, that Una had given up that part of herself to settle on Berk, and that I looked nothing like the queen or her children. Morgan liked serving a royal Scot. No matter what I said, he'd always see me as such.

Another thing bothered me. _The walls have ears. _That was why I hadn't felt safe in the infirmary, apart from Alvin having entered and escaped without anyone seeing him. Gossip served as informal currency, and he could have easily heard what the queen had told me. That means my fight with Merida, her agreeing to take me to see the Crafty Carver-

I groaned and made an effort to not bang my head with the hammer. No wonder Alvin hadn't abducted me. As long as the queen kept me at the castle, away from the vast skies or from witches who could strip immortality, then he had me in one place while plotting. Unlike Berk, who had witnessed his violent treachery and manipulation, Scotland did not know Alvin yet, so he could eavesdrop. And stay immortal.

Toothless nudged me out of my dark thoughts. I put down the hammer.

"Bud, what are we going to do?" I asked him. "Alvin is watching our every move. He's probably found a way to eavesdrop on each conversation."

He crouched and assumed a hunter's position.

"Yeah, but we can't pounce on every servant with a bulky figure and a beard. For all we know, he could be hiding with the guards." I paused. "If only there were a way to expose him without provoking war."

Toothless made a slitting gesture with his front paw, as if he were gutting a freshly-caught cod.

"You're right. Even if we exposed him, there is the whole "trickster god looks out for me so I'm not going to die.'" I sighed and set aside the repaired sword. "What comes first, bud? Plan a trip to visit the carver or find Alvin? Because if we plan to visit the carver, we need to give her something in exchange for the altar. Something she can't refuse. Merida didn't mention how she paid for the spell."

Toothless glanced at the tools around the smithy.

"You think state of the art woodcarving tools will appear to her?" I reached for the satchel that held accumulated credits. "Maybe a new chisel and an axe that her frail hands can hold."

He nodded. I started counting out the metal chips, thinking of how much material would be needed for carving, and how much time I had.

The bell for lunch. It rang with a dull finality. Back to returning to the castle's watchful eyes, both well-intended and hostile.

"Not now." I nearly dropped the hammer with the groaning I was doing. "Think Morgan will mind if I exchange the chips or material?"

Toothless gave me a look.

"Right. I'm apparently royalty now." Just the same, I followed the bargaining that we had made this morning. No need to get on bad terms with the man who controlled the means of earning my freedom. Besides, witches might be finicky about how their chisels scraped wood.

* * *

Mealtime stretched into afternoon. Steam from the bellows drenched my pale skin and Toothless's scales. Still he watched me work, and no one came to call me. No queen to twist my ear for missing afternoon lessons, not stomach grumbling to remind me to get some boar's heart for energy.

I fought uneasiness, fear that Alvin was hatching a new scheme. Perhaps it was better that they had forgotten about me. First time I had control of my schedule in weeks.

First, chisels. Dad liked to whittle in the mornings, so I was familiar with how to carve them. Punch holes through hot metal, file grooves of equal depth and width, avoid burning my fingers in the process. Find a decent leather handle by which to hold the chisel, stitch neatly, and all done! It wouldn't be enough, of course, not for a witch, but it was a start. I made several in varying sizes, sucking on my affected fingers for the smaller grooves. Toothless licked them as well; though I didn't like dragon spit as a healing remedy, the saliva repaired the skin in seconds.

Second, a small axe for splitting wood. I used my own strength as a reference to sharpen a head appropriate for the length of wood that I had chosen.

Toothless gave a warning bark. I looked up. Shouting from outside.

"Hey, I arrived with the white flag, so I have the right to see him." Demanding, familiar female voice.

Disbelief on my face, and on Toothless's. Would Thor be so kind as to send me such a sign? Or was this another plot to lower my guard?

"Just wait a moment, young lady-"

"Look, where is Hiccup? He hasn't sent letters in two weeks, so obviously something must have happened."

"Astrid?" I whispered. Toothless focused his ears on the smithy door.

"Toothless, is that Astrid? Can you tell me honestly?"

He gave me a smile and nodded.

Hellhounds couldn't have halted my sliding sprint. I yanked the silk shirt over my drenched body and ripped the door open. Toothless took a while to match my head start.

Conversation, guards muttering while pointing spears at a Nadder and her rider. Astrid wore her usual outfit and displayed her mother's axe. Joy bubbled out of my voice for the first time in weeks.

"Astrid! Oh thank the gods, Astrid, it's you!"

Puncturing exclamations, widened eyes. Even Astrid gave a look of surprise as I ran smack into her and lifted her off the ground. Then my arms protested and I set her down, peppering her face with kisses. People murmured with scandalized tones, but feeling my girlfriend's spiked armor and blond braid caressing my face seemed to restore a sense of sanity. Eventually Astrid returned a stronger hug, making me groan. Her brown satchel thudded against my knee. Then a harsh throat cleared.

"So you're Astrid!" Merida stood with her hands on her hips. Astrid gave the princess a suspicious look, not unwrapping her arms from around me. I tried not to gasp in pain as her muscles pressed against the bruises.

"Princess Merida, I assume?"

"You assumed right!" Merida gave a toothy smile. "I was wondering what kind of girl would court a draugr like Hiccup."

"Draugr?" Astrid let go of me. Her small hands went to the ax dangling from her back.

"Astrid, it's all right. I've gotten used to it." I tapped her hand to remind her that princesses couldn't get beheaded.

"What else have you gotten used to?" she asked in a flat voice, noting the silk shirt I wore and soft-skinned boots. "Have they forced you to dress like them?"

"All my Viking clothes got destroyed. NOT by Scots," I told her in an undertone.

That was the wrong thing to say. She straightened up to scrutinize me.

"Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, what in Odin's name happened to you? And your dragon teeth gloves! Were those destroyed as well?"

"Not by Scots," I repeated.

"Then who? You don't look like a Viking anymore."

I flinched; Astrid realized what she had said and opened her mouth.

"So this is what young love looks like," Merida commented. "And Mum wonders why I don't want to get married."

Astrid shot her a look.

"I've heard you taught him to fight first, Astrid. Not bad, if I may say so myself."

"Really? Could you do better?"

"I already have," Merida declared. "A shame his sword got broken by that Alvin fellow."

"Merida!" I started, but Astrid's eyes blazed.

"Alvin's here? In Scotland?! And you weren't planning to tell me?"

"Not when I first saw you, no! Once you got some food in you and Stormfly," I said. "You must have been flying for days!"

"Only three." She turned to pat a panting Stormfly. "I've increased her speed over the past month; we need to test her against Toothless."

"Not now." The guards still surrounded us with spears. "There's a lot to tell you."

"I could imagine. You better convince me that you're not in danger, Hiccup."

"Why?"

"Because your dad gave me specific orders if you were in danger." Her voice drops to a harsh whisper. "'_Even at the risk of war, bring Hiccup home_.'"


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Second chapter for this evening! **

**HolyFurryFish- Thank you for the compliment, and your wish may get fulfilled. Merida may not have been nice, but she managed to give Astrid some vital information regarding Alvin. Otherwise, Hiccup may never have mentioned it.**

Astrid's words paused time. The murmurs and bustle seemed to disappear. I stared at her.

"What?"

"If Alvin is in Scotland, then gods help me, I am not going to let you stay and wait for him to attack." She yanked at my left arm. I pulled away.

"Astrid-"

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't pull you on Stormfly and take you back to Berk, hang the treaty."

"For starters," Merida said loudly, "he'd have to leave his dragon behind."

Our private space broke. Astrid exchanged a venomous glare with Merida, who put her hands on her hips.

"Look, ax-swinger, you're insulting our castle if you say that your draugr is in danger here and he needs to go home immediately. You also insult his courage by treating him like a babe. So I can challenge you to an honor duel, a trial by archery."

Astrid set her teeth and made a fist. She knew better than to attack the princess with her armed guard.

"Or you can treat him like a grown man and trust us."

"He's not my draugr, and he's not a grown man." Astrid placed a protective hand against my cheek. "He's my dragon-riding boyfriend who's proved his worth as a Viking."

"If he's a worthy Viking, what made him a draugr back home?" Merida demanded. "He came here all grumpy, starving and haunted."

"Merida!" Elinor finally broke through the stunned guards. "That is not how you talk to a peaceful guest."

"And I was NOT grumpy," I said. "Your Majesty, may I please have a few moments with Astrid? It's been a while and . . ." Astrid pulled me in for a hug, exchanging her fierceness for a pleading look.

"Absolutely not," Elinor said. "It's not proper for you to travel unescorted with a lady."

"Not for that!" I exclaimed, too abruptly. Astrid groaned. I took a deep breath to fight a threatening blush. "I just want to talk to her, Elinor. Without anyone listening." _Not inside the castle, where Alvin eavesdrops._

Astrid's eyes narrowed when she heard I was on first names with the queen. Toothless came and nuzzled her. I let them reunite, her scratching his chin and petting him.

"Merida, will you and your brothers watch Toothless for a few minutes? I'm going into the air with Astrid."

"Hiccup! I just said-"

"I give you my word that we will not leave your sight, Elinor." I climbed onto Stormfly. Astrid took her time to follow. She understood.

"Stormfly, hover," she whispered. The Nadder gasped but spread her wings for a vertical takeoff. We shot into the air; the guards exclaimed and aimed their spears.

"Don't shoot!" Merida cried. "They're not going to leave!"

We stopped just below the cloud cover. Stormfly beat her wings against the calm winds. People exclaimed from below, but the guards lowered their weapons. The triplets piled onto Toothless as Merida fed fish to him. I leaned close to Astrid to whisper in her ear.

I refined the violent acrylic of what had happened in the past two weeks into a mere charcoal sketch, with the faintest details. I only told her that Alvin had sent a stupid Outcast to attack me and put nightshade in my evening tea, and that he had smashed the dragon-teeth gloves.

"The poison was why I didn't write letters. I was really sick."

Not a complete lie. I had been sick, just not physically.

"Hiccup, if he was able to get into the castle once, he can surely do so again."

"No, it's where he wants me. For some newly hatched scheme."

"Then why be where he wants you?"

"He threatened the queen and her children."

Astrid fell silent.

"Astrid, I know what my father said, but too many innocent people have gotten caught in the crossfire. You, for starters; all of Berk. Thuggory of the Meathead tribe. These people have been nice to me, and I can't let them face his wrath."_ And there may actually be a way to stop him, and I won't have a better opportunity if I leave now._

She turned and unbuttoned the top of my shirt. "If they're so 'good,' why did they let you get manhandled?" She touched the new bruises.

"Berk went down fighting, but I got manhandled there."

Her fist clenched against my chest. "But you're among enemies."

"I have enemies in the Archipelago," I told her. "They were ready to enslave me."

"So you're scared of them?"

"Not as scared as I am of Alvin."

She looked surprised.

"The only way I can return home is if I defeat Alvin here," I told her. "It has to happen in Scotland, before he has time to start another campaign of deceit."

"Then let me help you. Let other Vikings help you."

"What about the Academy? What about Thuggory and all the new students?" This was a low blow, but someone had to remind Astrid . "You need to help them, Astrid, since I can't."

"Then you're going to face him alone? Without your weapons?"

"Not alone." I met her eyes and caressed her cheek. "It's not because I like her. She's a pain and too honest, and she can't swing an ax. And she didn't help me figure out how to save my dad and dragon from the Green Death."

"I didn't figure that out. You did."

I wrapped my arms around her; she nearly lost hold of Stormfly. A sudden wind blew through us. A mischievous look came over her eyes.

"You were there for me, when I was on the verge of running away with Toothless, and you've always been there for me." Since she had ridden on Toothless and learned why I had kept him a secret. "Believe me, I'd like nothing more to come home now, but I can't. It would be running away again.

She twisted so that we could kiss. Frost whipped against our cheeks. I wanted to hold her until the hairs on my fingers turned white and flaked into dust. Stormfly, squawking with exhaustion, hovered down, slowly.

I hopped off the Nadder and walked slowly towards the queen. She controlled her anger.

"You are a boy of your word, Hiccup. And a clever one, as always."

It didn't matter that she didn't intend that as a compliment. All that mattered was apologizing to Toothless, watching Merida and Astrid walk together, Astrid swinging her ax at times. I caught only Merida's harsh whisper.

"I give my word as a Scot and princess that no harm will come to him, and that I will not 'make a move on him.' I don't clean another girl's weapon till it's pointy and shiny."

A blush finally came, and I made an effort to shut out the conversation.

* * *

Although the time was long past for lunch, Elinor thought that afternoon tea would refresh Astrid and give her ample time to unwind. She sent word to Maudie, who ran ahead to notify the cooks. We sat down in the hall as servants brought out plates

I didn't touch my cup, except to sip it to make sure it was bitter and not poison-sweet. Maudie smiled nervously at me. I put the cup down and gave her a reassuring look to indicate, as I always had, that I didn't blame her for what had happened. Just didn't want to have a nightshade cocktail again.

Fergus was interested that Astrid had a formidable knowledge of weapons; he asked to examine her axe and praised its polished handle and sharpened blade. Merida's lip curled as her father ran his fingers along the foreign weapon.

"You are a lass who respects the axe and treats it like a civilized being," he said. "I'd like to try my stroke against yours sometime."

"Thank you. It belonged to my mother," she said with restrained, genuine appreciation. Elinor had given her a cup of apple juice instead of tea, and she drank it with relish. Stormfly bent her head over the table into a plate of chicken.

Merida pressed her lips harder as she sipped her tea.

"It was a great fortune that Hiccup came to DunBroch!" Fergus told her. "Few Scottish ladies except my daughter know how to use heavy weapons."

"And with good reason," Elinor said firmly. Fergus ignored the implication. Praise flowed from his mouth like rich, intoxicating wine, saying how Astrid carried herself like a loyal warrior. Despite herself Astrid relaxed, and so did her dragon. She boasted about having used chicken to make Stormfly fly faster, so that she could match Toothless's speed, and how no one has bested her in a duel.

Merida didn't enjoy this happy exchange; she slipped fruit-filled cakes to her brothers under the table and leaned her head against a lazy elbow. When Fergus paused between his praise of Astrid, she gave a loud yawn.

"Your ax seems to be a nice ornament. Good for slicing the hands off your opponents if not their tempers."

Astrid's smile became a grimace. "Oh, and I suppose your arrows manage to leave an enemy intact so they can kill you."

"I'm just saying there's not much range to an axe." Merida gave a swaggering shrug. "Explains how your draugr got those gloves. I imagine he's got a bit of blood on his hands."

"Merida." Elinor's teeth were practically clenched together.

"Astrid didn't teach me how to use the gloves," I lied. "That's something I figured out on my own."

"Hah." Merida gave me an appraising glance. "You need to make eye contact when telling a tall tale, Hiccup."

"We Vikings don't molly-coddle our boys with tea and fancy clothing." Astrid nodded at the cups. She gave a feral smile. "If you have to kill an enemy, you have to kill an enemy. And if you're lucky, you get a battle scar to show your victory."

Merida glowered. "A scar only shows that you didn't make the effort to defend yourself. It means you're lazy and careless. But I suppose standards are different in savage lands."

Astrid stood up. So did Merida.

"Is this a challenge?" Astrid asked, reaching for her axe.

"What if it is, little miss 'I've never been defeated'?"

"Merida." This time Fergus stepped between them. He seemed to realize why his daughter had become aggressive. "It's one thing for the lords and me to tussle. It's quite another for you and this lady to duel. As the best archer and warrior in Dunbroch, you don't have to prove anything."

"She thinks we can't protect Hiccup, Dad," Merida said, giving him a hard look. "I merely want to change her way of thinking."

"Merida!" The queen and I exclaimed at the same time. Didn't matter; the girls were oblivious to us.

"It can be a civil fight, if it's about changing certain opinions." Astrid stroked the blade. "No injuries, just simple disarming. After this tea?"

"After this tea." Merida smiled. "Make sure your dragon won't attack."

"Girls, this is ridiculous," I said. "Astrid, you are the best fighter in Berk, and Merida, you are the best warrior in Dunbroch. Can you leave it at that?"

"No!" They both snapped at me. I turned to the queen.

"Elinor, you surely can't allows this to happen."

She stood, a quivering tower of green fury. Yet her voice was calm, defeated.

"Unfortunately, Astrid did insult Dunbroch's safety, so Merida is within her rights to challenge her to an honor duel. Astrid has also proven herself as a deft warrior, so she can accept."

* * *

The gods should have covered the courtyard with downpour, but apparently they wanted to see an axe duel between two violent girls. The sun shone with unwanted cheeriness, scorching the cobblestones. I pressed my lips to not curse the gods since I had to negotiate with one soon.

Toothless and I stood by Stormfly to keep her calm, to reassure her that Astrid wanted to get attacked. She licked the chicken grease from her teeth and screeched with concern.

The queen stood next to us. Only dignity kept her from tearing her hair out and smacking both the girls for being pig-headed. She would pull them by the ear if it were two boys fighting, I thought to myself, but girls get the free pass. Even if they're crazy.

Merida leaned on a single-headed axe, much smaller than Astrid's. She waited as Astrid polished hers before indicating two wooden targets that Fergus had brought out, shuffling his feet.

"See if you can hit the bulls-eye with that farmer's plough," she said.

Astrid gave a feral grin, nodded to show she was ready and tossed. Relaxed form, not even blinking an eye. She had done it so many times on Berk that the trees often complained with loud creaks. The double-headed blade sunk into the target, nearly splitting it in half.

Merida took a slower approach. She grounded herself on light shoes, turned so that only one hip faced the target, and breathed. Only then did her right arm, lifted high into the air, come down like an executioner's sweep. Her axe also hit the target, but its impact only left a nick on the painted wood, as if it were a small white falcon spreading its glorious wings and talons.

Fergus couldn't help but cheer. Merida straightened up and dusted herself, looking pleased.

"Like I said, someone who leaves a large scar is a lazy warrior."

Astrid stopped smiling. She retrieved her axe. Merida did the same, using two hands to pull out the blade. They circled in the courtyard center.

"Easy, girl," I murmured to Stormfly, whose haunches shot up. "Merida has the advantage of home territory, but Astrid's been using that axe since she was both have a good chance."

"Whose side are you on, draugr?" Merida called. "Don't forget who taught you how to use that blade."

She swung first, testing Astrid's defense. Astrid twisted her blade to deflect the blow, nearly yanking it out of Merida's hands. The princess pulled back in time and smiled.

"Not holding back, are you?"

"I never do." Astrid brought two direct blows; Merida barely parried each one. The blades swung left and right, and terrible clanging filled the air. Merida had to retreat to catch her breath. Astrid saw the opening and charged. Merida had to sidestep her and managed to hide surprise.

"Good. Your draugr was a sodden dishrag to grapple with at first. I had to make him angry."

I almost closed my eyes; this was a slaughter I heard before it happened. Yet I forced myself to watch and whispered what I wanted to warn Merida.

"No, don't go for the direct approach; Astrid favors her right side and she stands her ground easily. Keep talking, but make sure she doesn't lose her temper. Distract her."

Stormfly squawked, and Merida didn't hear. She couldn't hear anything but the clangs of each axe and her slipping feet. All the better; Merida did not ask for help.

Astrid had this to her credit: she knew that attempting to end the duel quickly would spur Merida to desperate measures. So instead she drew out the fight, retreating at times to let the princess think she had the advantage. Merida, used to the sword and bow, felt her arms weaken with the heavier weapon and charged quickly to make up for her tired muscles.

Then it was over. A clang, and Merida's was on the ground. Astrid didn't even point her own blade at the princess's throat. She just let her axe hang.

Merida hid her disappointment and shock. She had never been disarmed before; I had only broken through her guard once. Elinor's regal stiffness took over her face, and she bowed.

"Congratulations, Astrid. You are a capable ax-fighter."

"And I didn't even get a scratch." Astrid bent and retrieved Merida's axe, handing it to her. "How's that for a lazy warrior?"

That was unnecessary. Merida's face burned red, and she pinched her lips. Elinor's dignity took over her face, though, and she forced herself to remain gracious.

"That is . . . very good."

"The very best!" Astrid marched off, pleased with herself. Merida would tantrum in her quarters later, swinging a blade into the bedposts, but for now she'd walk with her neck stiff and hand held high. And she did, ignoring her father and brothers. That left me to comfort her.

"I'm sorry," I said as we walked back to the castle. "I should have warned you that Astrid is competitive to a fault. You should've seen how angry she got when I beat her at dragon training."

Merida turned, incredulous. "YOU beat HER at something?"

I couldn't help but grin as I recounted the event, although it had been serious at the time. Merida cheered up when hearing how Astrid had called me names and swung her axe, had knocked me to the ground when I tried to hide Toothless from her. She took too much enjoyment in that last bit, but retelling the past made me forget about the threatening present, about the Outcast watching us from the shadows.


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Guest- Aw, I like Merida precisely because of that abrasiveness. She's just too proud for her own good.**

After the intense afternoon, Astrid relaxed at dinnertime. She regaled Fergus and Elinor with misadventures that happened at the Dragon Academy, with the king egging her on. Merida was subdued, huddling with her brothers and listening. One tale reminded me why Astrid was a good choice as the new Academy head.

The Bog Burglar heir HAD chosen to attend the Academy, and she refused to tame her blond hair or burgling ways. Many times Fishlegs had found himself without boots, or Snotlout without his helmet. Each time, though, the items would turn up in the most embarrassing places and Camicazi- for that was the Bog Burglar's name- would feign innocence.

"She made a mistake, though," Astrid smirked. "She tried to steal Stormfly."

I gave a visible wince. Stormfly gave her rider an apologetic look.

"The problem is that anyone who feeds Stormfly chicken becomes her best friend." Astrid gave her dragon a dark look. "Camicazi found that out quickly, and she thought that stealing a dragon would heighten her Bog-Burglar fame. She didn't consider, though, that I'd notice if my Nadder were gone."

Astrid mimed wrestling with Camicazi in mid-air and her own clenched fist. Merida actually sat up to pay attention. She pushed curls out of her eyes.

"It turns out Camicazi was an excellent fencer, but I had my axe on me." Astrid leaned back. "Stormfly sailed over the island like one of her wings were broken; we were deep into combat before Fishlegs and Tuffnut and the rest of the Academy came and caught Camicazi red-handed. A few more seconds and Stormfly would have tossed us both off."

"Now that would be a fight I would have liked to see," Merida muttered. Astrid pretended not to hear.

"But how did you handle the situation?" I asked. "Did you have to expel her?"

"No. We tried locking her up for a few days to temper her ego, but Bog Burglars can't be kept under lock and key." Astrid grimaced. "Besides, we want to stay on good terms with the Bog Burglars because an army of them would pick Berk clean. We made a compromise. In exchange for not getting expelled, Camicazi will serve as our Academy Burglar, doing what she loves best for the island's benefit."

"Academy Burglar?"

"You know, to scout out the slave-making tribes to steal information and important things, like slaves and raid victims." Astrid fixed her eyes on me and mouthed 'Svala'. "Especially from the Uglithugs."

This drew a larger wince from me. The Uglithugs were the most aggressive and uncompromising Vikings in the Archipelago, owning a massive chunk of it and Slavelands. They never showed up to Things, and they didn't have to. Only a man seeking a slow, violent death would tangle with them.

"Camicazi claims to have escaped from Uglithug prisons before," Astrid went on. "So she knows the basic layouts of the lands and can steal maps."

"Sounds risky," I commented.

"She claims she can handle it."

A look passed between us. I gave Astrid a look that she normally gave me, the reasonable sternness to not let a teenager go by herself, without a dragon, into the most terrifying Viking tribe's territory alone to mount a rescue. She responded by feeding her dragon more chicken.

"You know, Hiccup, you never told us an adventure from when _you_ were running the Academy," Fergus commented to fill up the silence. "Must have been exciting to have to chase down burglars."

"We actually didn't have to worry about thieving students," I shrugged. "Snotlout's too arrogant to care, and the twins prefer blowing stuff up. But we've had quite a few quests, like finding Hamish II's treasure."

The queen looked up from where she read letters. I took her attention as a cue to continue.

"It started with a portrait. A portrait of the chief and his son, done with each generation."

Dad had been too pleased to ask Bucket to buff me up in the painting, to make me look like a brunette version of Snotlout. I made an effort to recall the bitterness and resentment from that day, seeing the bigger version of me take up space in the mead hall.

Elinor's forehead furrowed when I recalled the six of us sneaking to the glacier, me dangling from Meatlug to retrieve a piece of the contraption, and the dragons fending off scorching Fireworms in Hamish II's cave. Her frown became prominent when I talked of how Dad apologized afterward and gotten a new portrait hung.

"Your father seemed to give you a lot of freedom."

"He actually didn't know where we had gone," I said. "Snotlout and the twins had stolen the map from Gobber, and I went with them to solve the riddles. Dad and Gobber followed, though, just a few steps behind us. He never actually scolded me . . ."

I looked down. To be able to set off on a quest without my dad worrying. To not get scolded for having disobeyed orders. To have the day for myself, being able to choose what I could do.

I missed that life. I missed my freedom.

"It's all well and good, though." Fergus smiled. "You managed to retrieve a treasure that no other Viking could and discover more about your family! That's always a good thing, isn't it, Elinor?"

The queen nodded stiffly. Astrid reached over and squeezed my hand. I focused on chewing to ignore the strange, sudden homesickness.

* * *

After the evening meal, Astrid followed me to the smithy. I still had to clean up since I had left in a rush-though surely Morgan could forgive me for that slip-up- but she'd run her lips over mine as I wiped the tools and hung them in their usual spot. Toothless helped by sweeping stray objects my way and sniffing for missing hammers.

"Gobber would be jealous," she commented as I replaced the bellows and blew ashes off them. "You didn't work half as hard with him as you do with this guy."

"Correction; I didn't work this hard after spending half my life in the smithy and realizing I was never allowed outside." I ran to hang up stray aprons and nails.

"Hey, these are new."

The bag of chisels and the small axe.

"Hey; I made those!" I reached for them; she held it away. Toothless warbled at her, but she didn't respond.

"Hiccup, why did you make carving tools?" Her voice was filled with suspicion and admiration.

"As a gift."

"For who? The queen?"

"One of Gothi's friends."

She scoffed. "Gothi doesn't have friends in Scotland."

"It's the truth!" I said.

She shook the bag in disbelief. "You're going to do something stupid when I'm gone, aren't you? "

"No," I said, and it was the truth; unless Merida convinced Elinor that Toothless and I wouldn't bolt, we wouldn't be seeing the witch anytime soon.

"Something crazy then."

"Not even that." Not as crazy as teaching all the dragon training students to fly on Nightmares and Gronckles, and certainly not as crazy as jumping from dragon to dragon to draw catapult fire.

"Then what in Thor's name are you going to do?" she asked. "Your dad whittles, but even he doesn't need so many chisels. Or an axe this tiny."

I could have told her about the quest to rid Alvin of his immortality. I could have told her that Gothi had told me to find the Crafty Carver. Gods, I could have mentioned breaking down in front of Merida and the queen, being held prisoner in this castle.

But then Astrid wouldn't leave, knowing I was "broken" and desperate. She wouldn't call the quest crazy, but it was a few degrees short of crazy. I was trusting a fiery Scottish princess and a witch, both of whom were not popular in Viking eyes. Astrid would insist on coming along, and then the Dragon Academy would go to Hell's Gate.

Strangely enough, Morgan's unwanted interruption saved me. He entered and left a thick shadow in the smithy.

"You." He pointed at Astrid. "Put that down."

She straightened up. "Excuse me?"

"You embarrassed the royal family," he said. "A guest does not defeat the princess in a duel, even if the princess declares one. And you're not a blacksmith, thus you shouldn't handle blacksmith equipment."

Anger shot through my muscles. Perhaps I wasn't completely broken.

"Morgan, leave her alone," I answered, wrapping an arm around Astrid. "She won fairly, and Merida could have chosen archery or fencing. AND Astrid found your son and daughter."

That stopped his righteous fury. Hope froze his anger into a comical expression.

"You have it on my word that Astrid and the Dragon Academy will mount a rescue mission, AS A TEAM." I gave my girlfriend a pointed look. "Uglithugs are possessive of what they steal, but they don't have dragons. And they don't have our compassion."

Astrid gave a stiff nod. She handed the bag of chisels back to me and strutted off.

"That girl's a bad influence on you, highness," Morgan said.

"Why? Because I'm finally talking back to you?" The anger wouldn't leave. "And I'm not royalty; I'm just a Viking who happens to have some Scottish ancestry."

"She teaches you to disrespect authority."

"Disrespect authority?" Disbelief mixed in. "Astrid is the_ least_ likely person to challenge anything in our village."

"Then what was that duel about?"

"Merida challenged _her!_" I snapped. "Look, you can kick me out of the smithy and take away my credits, but no one insults my girlfriend! She's going to try to rescue Svala and Gunther, Morgan! She's trying to make things right!"

It would have been better if Morgan had grabbed a belt and chased me out with it. His bitter laugh was worse, his slumping into a stool.

"You're so naive. And young. Vikings took my family. What makes you think a Viking will return them?"

"Because 'this Viking' cares. Astrid always has."

He shook his head. "If only I could believe that, highness."

"For the last time-"

"You ARE royalty." Morgan looked angry again.

"Astrid's the only reason I saved my father and dragon from the Green Death!" I turned to face him. "If it hadn't been for her, I would've taken off on Toothless and been exiled from Berk for deserting."

"Yet here you are, exiled from your 'home' anyway." He sneered.

"I am going to pretend you did not say that." I kept my voice calm. "If Astrid brought back Svala and Gunther, would that change your mind? Would she still be a 'bad influence'? Because that was mostly me doing the kissing and running, not her."

Morgan had to think about the question. He leaned back in his stool, reaching for an absent drink.

"I don't know," he said. "If only I were younger. It's been nearly a decade."

I finished cleaning up and took the bag of chisels. He nodded at their handiwork.

"You did a good job. Whoever gets those tools will be pleased. You may want to sew a proper holster for holding them," He grabbed some leather and passed it to me. "The queen keeps needle and thread in the castle. Remember to ask nicely."

"Thanks," I said stiffly, marching out the way Astrid had. It was just hard to match an angry girlfriend's strut with a heavy bag of carving tools and an excited Night Fury bounding beside me. He hadn't liked Morgan's comments any more than I had.

* * *

I caught up with Astrid by sprinting; she was marching in a huff and swinging her axe, mumbling a nasty imitation of Morgan. The servants watched with fascination as her dragon followed her with squawks.

"Astrid, I'm so sorry." I stayed out of range of her axe. "You shouldn't have heard that."

"How do you put up with that?" she asked. "WHY do you put up with that?"

"Astrid, I told you about it in my letters."

She grabbed the front of my shirt; there wasn't as much of a yank because it was oversized. The axe wobbled threateningly. "'The only good Viking is a dead Viking' is one thing. Telling me to throw a match because it 'embarrasses the royal family'? Hiccup-"

I did the only rational thing to calm her down, because she was right. She shouldn't have thrown the fight because Merida had challenged her, not the other way around, and no one had gotten hurt. Telling Astrid that, though, was like adding dry grass to a burning fire. So that's why I didn't talk.

Instead, I pressed my lips against hers. Her eyes widened, still quivering with angry pride. Her fist tightened around my shirtfront. I prayed she wasn't going to tear me.

Not the best kiss we had ever shared, but it did the trick. After a few moments of angry trembling, she put the axe down and wrapped her arms around me. My shirt relaxed against her tunic. Time slowed down, and the dew seemed to freeze in the air.

"Oy! Get a stable, you two!" Someone shouted.

"Show some decency! This isn't a brothel!"

I shot a dark look at the speakers, young farmhands who bounded into the night with giggles.

"Idiots," Astrid muttered under breath. Stormfly, sensing that we needed privacy, spread their wings to surround us in protective, leathery skin. Toothless watched us with boredom, keeping an eye out for more hecklers.

"Ignore them," I whispered into her forehead.

"I wish I could come visit you more often," she stroked my hair. "To know that you were being treated all right."

"Well, the only way to do that would be if you could bring your work with you," I remarked dryly.

That was the wrong thing to say. Astrid's eyes lit up with angry glee.

"Astrid, I was joking! do NOT bring the Dragon Academy to Dunbroch!" I told her. "It might be seen as a declaration of war."

"Maybe I won't," she looked down innocently, "if you tell me about the not-stupid, not-crazy thing you're planning to do when I'm gone."

"That's blackmail!"

"So?"

I glared at her. She kept the innocent look. A deep breath, and I organized my thoughts, lowered my voice. Stormfly tightened her wings around us.

"I'm going to meet one of Gothi's friends," I told her, which wasn't a lie. "A woman called the Crafty Carver. Gothi told me to find her, and I just did."

"How? And why haven't you gone to see her before?"

"Because I was sick. And before that, I wasn't allowed to leave the castle because of lessons and training." I was gesticulating to emphasize the training, breaking away from her. "I just got an opportunity, and I'm not going to pass it up."

"So you were telling the truth."

"Astrid, you're threatening to come back with an army!" I whispered. "What reason would I have to lie?"

"Because you're alone here," she said, cupping my face.

"So?"

"I've seen the way everyone treats you here; you're either a curiosity or something to be ignored. You don't have friends here the way you do on Berk, no one to watch your back."

"Believe me, I'm not alone." I glanced at Toothless. "Sometimes I wish I were ignored more, so I could have time to myself."

"Hiccup, you need allies here." She looked stern. "I told you to not trust the Scots, but if Alvin is here, then you need someone to be with you if things explode. And I don't mean explode like the twins having fun with their dragon."

"Allies." I considered. "Quite a political term."

"It's a practical one. I doubt making friends with Scots are easy if they're all like Morgan, or the princess." She shuddered and pressed her cheek to mine. "But Alvin's a threat to everyone if he's threatened the queen."

"And if I do that, you won't bring the Academy here on some noble endeavor?"

"Word of honor." She said.

The Bog Burglar heir must have taught her to lie, not very well. Well, two could play at that game.

"Fine. Then I will gain as many 'allies' as I can." I went in for one more kiss. She let me explore her mouth for a brief moment.

"We should go in. It's late, and I need to head back to Berk in the morning. You better send letters every day."

We walked back to the castle, silent but holding hands. Our dragons followed like chaperones. Although Alvin was watching, probably scheming of a way to use my old weakness against me, I didn't want Astrid to share my paranoia. I only wanted to remember how her cheeks quivered when she breathed, how her boots made soft footprints.

I wanted to feel like I was back on Berk, and the last four months hadn't happened.


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

The night seemed to pass quickly; I slept in the infirmary, and Astrid slipped in to kiss me goodbye.

**HolyFurryFish**-** I think I'm the only person who sympathizes with Merida in that chapter. Believe me, the story is far from finished. We're entering Act Three but still have to deal with Alvin and hostile lords.**

**To answer your question, what keeps me writing is the compulsion to complete a good story. That's how I completed Dragon Conqueror, since there wasn't any fanfiction like it and nothing covered in canon at the time. After that, I wrote Dragon Prince for the people who clamored for a sequel, a good sequel. So my secret is the desire to write a good story that isn't out there but needs to be, a story that only I can tell. **

Normally when Astrid wanted someone awake, she'd shake them out of their bed sheets. This time, though, perhaps sensing that I would freak, she placed a hand on my shoulder and stroked, gently whispering my name. I still woke with a jolt, afraid Alvin had come back. She looked startled as I gasped and struggled with the thick sheets.

"Sorry. Just leaving soon."

"What time is it?" I muttered with relief, reaching for her cheek. She grabbed my dry palm and pressed it to her bangs. Toothless cuddled near her.

"After dawn. Stormfly and I are awake enough."

"Be careful. Alvin has spies in the castle; don't let him catch you on the way back."

Her grip tightened. "I will be. Don't let HIM catch you while you're here."

"Touche." I gave her a sleepy smile. "Means I'll probably stay awake so he won't catch me by surprise."

She shoved me with her other hand. "Go to bed; you need your strength to survive here."

"It's fine." I tried to sit up but found my body protesting.

She sat on the bed, tracing my knuckles with her fingers. I kept my eyes locked on hers until sleep finally came. There may have been some cuddling, some desperate grabbing as the light grew under the door.

The next thing I knew, Astrid was gone and Merida had barged in. Her shoes allowed her to stomp.

"Up and about, Hiccup," she announced loudly. My head was under a pillow, and I tried to burrow under it. "Come on, we don't have much time!"

I groaned. "What's the hurry?"

"Mum's busy, so we won't get another opportunity to sneak out with dad!" Merida pulled the bedsheets off.

I cried out in dismay and shot straight up. My silk tunic was crumpled on the floor, and my pants were unbuttoned.

"Merida, I'm half-dressed!" I said indignantly, covering myself with the sheets. "You're not supposed to be in here!"

She eyed the bruises that peeked from my chest. "_She_ was in here, apparently. Left her mark."

There were no words to express my furious blush. Merida ignored it. She tossed me a thick tunic that caught me around the chest.

"I got you Dad's old shirt; it's freezing outside. Can you ride Toothless through the woods?"

"Why?"

"We're going to see the witch!" she said, as if it were obvious. "Mum's got letters from the lords; they're coming this evening! Everything's crazy, and if we don't go now, we'll be trapped here till they come."

It still didn't sink in. She turned to my dragon.

"Toothless, make sure he's out in the courtyard in ten minutes flat. If anyone asks, it's another combat lesson with Dad."

Toothless nodded. Merida heard a noise.

"I better get supplies. Hurry." She flounced off.

Toothless found the bag of chisels and nudged it towards me. He then gestured at the tunic.

I examined it; plain brown and green, patterned to match the shirts I had brought from Berk. Reinforced with wool lining to protect from the cold. And, as I tugged it on, I realized it was my size.

The princess thought of everything.

* * *

Merida wasn't kidding about the hustle and bustle. Apparently when lords came before the winter, servants had to organize the wine in the cellars, meats in the larders, and clean underwear in the hampers. The underwear seemed to be the worst part, long and white and dangling from everyone's arms.

After nudging me past laundry and dish-laden servants who flitted about with harried expressions, Toothless finally urged me onto his back. He didn't fly, and he couldn't have with all the things crowded into the corridor, but he still had four good legs for running. The hair on my face flew back as he sprinted past surprised servants. Maudie was the only one who asked where we were going.

"Combat lesson with Merida and the king!" I called over my shoulder. Toothless, sensing that Maudie would tell the queen about this deception, put on speed.

Outside, the smell of dead leaves and dry needles hit me, as did a blast of cold. A chill must have crept in over night. I reeled and nearly off Toothless; good thing I had harnessed myself to him. The bag of chisels went flying, however, and I made a ridiculous twist to grab it. The tools clinked together, and I prayed that I hadn't broken them.

You'd think a Viking would be used to cold, given Berk is frozen nine months of the year, but winter in Dunbroch was different. Back on Berk the sea breeze could blow away the worst of the chill, and on a dragon one could climb and practically bask in the sun, above the storm clouds. Here the air teemed with moist frost, smothering the warmth that sunshine promised, and the large trees left encroaching shadows that embraced the cold.

"There you are!" Merida greeted me. She had saddled up Angus and carried several satchels. The triplets sat on Angus, watching me placidly. Her dad was beside her, his mount loaded with axes and swords. The horse stood with a stoic expression, as if not thinking of how each blade could slice into his back.

"Thank my dragon for that, princess," I responded, hopping off Toothless.

"Do you have all your things?"

I nodded, showed her the bag of chisels and shivered. Even with the wool-lined tunic, refashioned from her dad's cloak I was sure of it, cold insisted on banging in.

Fergus reached and tossed another cloak at me; he seemed to have prepared. "It's a little on the large side, lad, but it'll keep you warm."

I nodded my thanks instead of saying I was used to wearing over-sized clothing. The cloak felt like a worn tent as I wrapped it around me. The clasp disappeared in the thick fabric, and I fumbled for it, finding myself turning round.

"Here." Merida came over and dug her hands around my neck. "No need to look foolish, Hiccup. That only wastes time."

If Astrid hadn't come the day before, I may have interpreted Merida's gesture as flirting. But there was a glint in her eye, suggesting that she wanted to say something outside her dad's earshot.

"A combat lesson?" I mouthed, gesturing at her dad. She gave a wicked grin and whispered through closed lips.

"Dad's going to show me how to fight with an axe in the woods; I hammered it into him that I need to be better than any Viking dragon rider. While I'm training with him, you go visit the witch, and we'll keep him busy."

"You and your brothers?"

"Aye."

"You're really devious when you want to be."

"Desperate quests call for desperate measures." She clasped the cloak and straightened it. "Now you look like a proper Scottish prince. Mum would be proud."

I gave her a look. Her smile wavered.

"Let's be off!" Fergus called. "I don't want to miss a single ray sunshine!"

Merida sauntered onto her horse and clambered on; the boys scrambled back to make room for her. I slid onto Toothless, dug into the cloak to find the harness, and urged him to fly once we were strapped.

The tail-fin opened with glee, but Toothless took time to adjust. So did I. It had been a week since we were airborne, so we hovered, just hanging in the autumn chill, tasting the winter on the wind.

"Come on, draugr!" Merida kicked her heels into Angus and took off with a flash of orange. The boys gave thrilled giggles as they shot past.

"Wait up, lass!" Fergus started to urge his mount, but Toothless and I had already shot past him. The woods swallowed us with spiky shadows.

We followed the regular, rhythmic clopping and Merida's giggles. She stayed to a path that peeked between the trees, lit a brilliant yellow-green. Fergus's mount galloped behind us, but could not keep up.

Toothless and I had to do a combination of leaping and flying. We learned this after having to jump over several mossy logs and dodging arrows that Merida shot over her back, at wooden targets that danced in the chill. The triplets cheered as each arrow hit its mark. Toothless swiveled to the side, just off the path and out of Merida's range. The trees blocked out most of the sunlight, so we galloped in dusty shadows.

"Nice dodging, draugr!" Merida called with cheer. "Maybe in time you'll learn to steer your beastie properly!"

Toothless would have let out a fireball, but I urged him not to. Instead, we sped forward and Toothless's tail swatted dead leaves in her face. She spluttered and Angus whinnied. The boys had ducked, and they cheered for me.

"Oh, you're going to play like that, aren't you?" Merida straightened herself and grinned. Her arrow aimed above us, but Toothless curved his neck and torched it before another shower of leaves hit us. We had practice from racing Astrid on Berk.

I couldn't help but smile against the wind rushing past my face. It felt like all my problems, even Alvin and his Outcasts, couldn't keep up with us, and they were left drenched in dust and forest mold. This wasn't flying, but it felt like freedom regardless.

Fergus stayed behind because the weapons weighed his horse down. That didn't make him cry out in alarm at any point, or perhaps I would have slowed down. Merida and I found ourselves neck in neck, not sure where the finish line was, just racing each other.

"It's just this way!" she shouted, urging Angus further. "We'll be reaching a circle of stones and then it's more woods!"

She was right; the trees and mossy logs soon ended. The open space and sunlight nearly blinded us, it was so airy and mild compared to the chill in the woods. But Merida didn't stop; she dove into a forest path, back into the darkness. Toothless panted as he followed, but his eyes gleamed and he almost let off several fireballs.

We saw the cottage at the end, a small thatched hut. It didn't seem ominous, but the thrills from the fast running faded. Toothless and I slowed down as we approached. The bag of chisels had thumped within my cloak.

"This is it," Merida halted Angus. Toothless and I slid to a stop.

"This is it," I repeated, stomach sinking. This was the Crafty Carver, based on the sign outside. My problems about to be solved.

And yet . . . this was a witch's house. There was no telling if I'd come out after going in, or if we would be truly safe.

"It'll be fine." Merida got off Angus. "The witch doesn't like me that much, but I'll come in with you if you like."

I shook my head.

She picked stray leaves out of my hair and wiped dirt off my face. The triplets stood on each other to grab at more leaves and blow in my ears.

"Good luck, draugr. We'll keep Dad for as busy as we can."

Her brothers nodded.

"Don't eat anything," Hamish said.

"Don't make wishes," Hubert added.

"Don't buy all her carvings." Harris looked at Merida. She bit her lip.

"I won't do any of that," I told them. Toothless kept to my side. Walking up the path, I opened the Crafty Carver's door.

* * *

I don't know what I was expecting. Perhaps the door to slam shut and a cackling crone to pinch my flesh, ask when was the last time I had eaten. Perhaps a bubbling cauldron in the middle. I was expecting anything but . . . a wood-carving shop.

Freshly ground sawdust, moist and piney, hung in the air like a comforting aroma. Sculptures arranged in haphazard fashion, wooden knickknacks like the carvings in the bear room. A stuffed crow perched on a bear-engraved pitcher.

Toothless sniffed the air with suspicion, but he made an effort not to sneeze. Fire and sawdust were not bedside companions.

"Welcome to the Craft Carver!" A small woman appeared. I startled and jumped back. "Can I interest you in anything?"

Large curved nose like a fat hawk's beak, wicked clever black eyes, white hair tied back with a circlet. She matched Gothi's floor drawing exactly, except she was sweeping the floor.

I held out the bag. "Madam, I need a commission. This is my . . . payment."

She took it with wrinkled hands and took out the axe. "Oh my! And just my size!" She gave a few practice swings. Then her eyes narrowed.

"Who sent you, highness? Why did you bring your beast."

"Highness?" I stepped backward into Toothless. "I . . . I'm not a prince. I'm a Viking!"

She jabbed a long finger at my cloak. "Then why are you wearing this?"

Oh gods. I looked down at myself. Scottish clothes, soft-skinned boots, a cloak with the Dunbroch royal crest.

"The royals lent it to me. Madam-"

"A commission!" she shook the bag at me. "For a spell, I suppose? Want to change your fate?" She turned away. "I thought the princess would have learned by this point; what did she say I could do?"

I took a deep breath to steady my voice. "I don't need a spell, and I don't want one. I want a carving of a statue, for the trickster god Loki."

"I don't do religious things except for weddings and christenings!" she snapped, testing the size of a chisel in her palm. "Loki is a deviant from the norm, a dangerous man to play with!"

"Gothi said you could help me!"

She paused, examining the small chisel. "Gothi?"

"The Village Elder, in Berk." Another deep breath. "She said you were good friends."

"They were REALLY good friends," the stuffed crow in the back piped up. "Liked to get together for slumber parties, show portraits of the guys they liked-"

The witch snapped her fingers. The broom flew from her hands and knocked the crow to the ground. She also took a deep breath and plenty of time to arrange a smile.

"And why do you want to tangle with the gods? Be sure to look me in the eye when you answer." She stood on tiptoe to peer.

I glanced over my shoulder for a moment. No sound from outside, meaning Fergus hadn't caught up. Toothless gave a nod.

"It's a long story," I said.

"Then we need tea!" she clapped her hands and a tray appeared in her hands, rattling with bear-theme porcelain. "Hold this."

"But the princess, and her family-"

"This way, dearie!" She led me outside, Toothless and the crow barely keeping up. "Can't host company where you carve."

"But-" I looked around. No Merida in sight, or the boys. The forest had changed to dense woods, with no sign of the path we had ridden. Toothless's ears perked up in anxious suspicion.

The witch muttered something and walked back in, still dragging me. The teacups and bear-shaped pot somehow glued themselves to the tray and so didn't crash to the ground like they should have. Toothless once again followed, the crow staying clear of his jaws.

The shop had changed to a simple but organized sitting room. Two chairs, one rug, fireplace with kettle hung. She set me on a green, fluffy chair, took the tray from my hands and snapped her fingers. The kettle whistled. Toothless gave a startled squawk as the porcelain teapot flew to the fireplace and the spout opened.

"No need to worry," the crow said as the witch added tea leaves. "The Earl Grey is never poisoned."

She handed me a boiling cup and a small plate of biscuits before sitting down and taking a cup herself. Bear-shaped biscuits.

"Now then." She looked me in the eye. "Tell me the 'long story' that brought you so far from your home."


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

The triplets had warned me not to eat anything, and it should have been easy with the stone-hard biscuits and bitter tea. But the witch wanted me to talk, and I found that I had to wet my throat to get the whole story out, because she asked questions about the details. She hunched forward to listen in her chair, and the crow clung to her plate.

Three cups of tea later, stirred with brown sugar, she leaned back with a weary expression.

"You seem to have gotten in over your head, dearie, although not by choice. I can see why Gothi would recommend me." She dipped a tiny spoon into her cup. "You do have to understand that I'm only doing this because Gothi is never wrong."

"Except about selling that cradle to the King of Norway," the crow piped up. "Didn't like the bear mobile floating over his baby's bed, although Gothi inscribed it with sacred runes."

The witch swatted him; feathers flew into her tea. "Highness, what exactly did you want me to carve?"

I had given up telling her to not call me "highness", and an idea for the altar had sprung in my head. "I want an altar of a fox helping a boy make a rainbow in the winter."

Her eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh! You want the story of how Odd helped retrieve Thor's hammer from the Frost Giants, when Loki was turned into a fox!"

This was an old story, one that Dad had told me when I was a tyke. Funny that I hadn't remembered his orders to stay inside during dragon raids but could recall perfectly the tale of a small boy with a twisted leg who befriended a fox, eagle and bear who were Loki, Odin and Thor transfigured horribly.

She clapped her hands. A block of wood appeared in her hands, causing her tea to fly to the floor. "A good choice! I normally don't do foxes, but Loki will like that. And since my old friend sent you . . ."

She got up. I set my tea on the table and followed her out, this time wary of what was to come. The cottage opened out to a remote plateau by the sea, the water lapping at the edge of the rock. The witch snapped her fingers, and the bag of chisels reappeared in her left hand. She set both down on a rock and got to work. Toothless and I watched her carve, heard her muttering.

Coils of wood and sawdust flew off, making her crow sneeze. Her large eyes became narrow, and a smile tugged her wrinkles. Her hands seemed to have a life of their own, chiseling fast and efficiently. My dad couldn't have carved faster or with such calm strokes.

The witch stood back. "What do you think, highness?"

"It's perfect," I breathed, and then coughed on the wood chips. A small altar that was half the size of a Viking shield but lightweight, showing a hobbled boy swinging a hatchet through a waterfall. The fox was beside him on two legs, giving him instructions. Despite being wood, the ice chips looked transparent like real snow; another mark of witchcraft, I suspected. Grooves in the wood marked where the color would flow.

The witch went to the edge of the plateau and dipped her hands into the sea. She cupped water and brought it to the altar. The water splashed on the carved wood, making real glimpses of rainbow.

"Son of Odin and Frigga," she intoned, "Frost Giant turned Vanir, remember what you have done before and what you will do now. A cunning mortal seeks a safe audience, and he has shown devotion. If you lay a hand on him, you will have me and every witch on Midgard to deal with."

The splashes of rainbow got louder around the altar. Colors of alternating black and blue grew around the wood. The witch took out a metal mask and placed it over her head; the crow did the same. Toothless, realizing what was going to happen, spread his wings to shield my eyes. I still saw the gleam, felt it sear through my sockets.

Then it was over. The altar was gone, vanished in colored smoke towards the sky.

"I think Loki heard you." The witch wiped her hands on the crow. "Now the question is when he responds, will you be ready? Do you know how to present your case?"

I looked in her eyes. "Why can't I tell him what I told you?"

"Because he doesn't care," she explained patiently. "Loki may be tricky, but he always supports the small and the smart. You have to appeal to that side of him. Be charismatic, and tell him what he wants to hear."

It sounds crazy, but I may as well have been talking with the queen. According to the witch, this was another diplomatic mission.

"Of course, Loki will come when you least expect it." The witch went to her cottage and opened it, letting me in. "So you better start preparing, dearie."

Toothless and I walked in. She gave me a brown parcel.

"Just a little treat since Gothi sent you. Some biscuits for the trip back and an extra carving I had lying around."

I felt the parcel. "Thank you, madam. What is it?"

"You lost your sword, didn't you? Going to have to make a new one."

I stared at her.

"It's a wooden sword handle, highness. But you need to make the right kind of blade for it." She grabbed my left hand and studied it. "You have to account for the length of your fingers of course, and for your personality. A dominant index and ring finger, meaning you're very creative and have a high potential to lead. That you're left-handed means that an unconventional path."

"But I already know that about myself," I said.

"You do, but do others know?" The witch tapped the center of my palm and let go of it, leaving wood shavings. "Best be off, dearie. And when you go back to Berk, give Gothi my best. Tell her I'll try to visit for the Archipelago Carving Festival."

"I will."

The door opened on its own. Toothless went first. I walked out, shifting the parcel from hand to hand.

"Be careful out there, dearie," the witch called. "I may have spells that can change people into bears, but out there words can change a reputation in a heartbeat. Guard that reputation well from tricksters."

"Especially Loki!" The crow added. "Handsome, tall and clever! Very clever!"

I turned and nodded. Then I went out. Toothless waited on the doorstep. So did Merida and her brothers.

* * *

"That wasn't long. Did you get it?" Merida asked, looking at the parcel. I nodded.

The triplets looked wide-eyed behind me. One took the package as we heard hoofbeats, and another pointed behind me.

I turned. The hut was gone. Instead, more forest, and the sun was in the same position.

"How long was I gone?" I asked.

The boys each held up two fingers.

"Hours or minutes?"

"Minutes," Merida said.

Wow. Toothless and I exchanged a glance.

"But we were gone for hours . . ." I looked behind me again, to see nothing. "At least, it felt like hours."

"She's a witch," Merida said darkly. "Perhaps she stopped time for a long chat."

Great gods, she had hit the nail on the head. But I didn't feel any older.

"Hiccup! Merida, boys! There you are!" Fergus halted his horse so that it skidded to a clanking stop. "A good race, but don't go so far out of my sight! Who won?"

"Merida did," I said automatically. She shot me a pleased grin.

"Really?" He gave a piercing look, odd on his cheerful face. "I don't doubt my daughter's riding ability, but you're riding a swift dragon. Don't tell me you threw the race?"

I shook my head. The triplets mimicked me, but not with malice. They lent credibility.

"Ah. Trying to avoid getting on the wrong side of her sword, is it?" He rubbed his hands together. "Smart lad, then. How about those axe lessons, lass? Ready to go against your old dad?"

"Anytime!" She flashed a wild grin. "By the river, so we can catch fish for Toothless?"

My dragon nodded with anticipation. I scratched him between the ears before swinging onto him. Poor Toothless. The witch had given me tea but had forgotten him. Small wonder the crow had stayed away from him.

Merida and her dad led the way to the river, a babbling brook that yearned for company. Salmon leaped through the rocky rapids, trying to make a difficult journey upstream. A dragon could comfortably feast here for weeks.

Sensing my thoughts, and tinged by the smell of food, Toothless charged. With me still on it. We splashed through the river as he opened his mouth and pounced, catching a fish directly in the jaws. I laughed and tried to unstrap myself, only to find myself tumbling into the shallow water. The fish leaped away from me, and Toothless kept splashing after them. He was in dragon heaven.

"I guess I deserve that," I told him with irony. He paid no mind.

"Hungry beastie, isn't he?" Fergus called. I turned and gave two wet thumbs-up He clapped Merida on the back before going to his horse to grab an axe.

Merida gave a sad, guilty smile as she watched Toothless feast and nearly trample me. As I scrambled for dry land, she came forward and grabbed me. The cloak was waterproof, but my pants and boots were completely drenched.

"Don't tell the Queen," I joked, attempting to smooth the wet tunic. She backed away.

"I wasn't going to tell Mum anyway. We came to this part of the river, when she was . . ." Merida made a clawing gesture. "I caught fish for her, then taught her how to grab them. She was really hungry."

"I bet."

Merida's eyes grew even sadder. "That's also when I thought I would lose her forever. For a minute, she became like a real bear for a minute, and she would have attacked me."

Oh.

We watched Toothless splash, careless of how the water would stain his leather saddle. Fergus returned in time with three axes.

"Oh no," I said, backing away. "I can't lift an axe."

"You couldn't fence a month ago." He tossed the smallest one at me; I caught it and staggered. "But you can watch and learn first while drying off."

Nothing I said would deter him; he would teach me to throw a hatchet. Already he rubbed his hands together.

"This was not part of the plan," I whispered to Merida. She shrugged and went to assume a fighting stance.

"He's making an excuse to not go back to the castle. A very valid one, if you ask me; Mum would shut us inside with the lords for the whole day."

Refusing to meet with other clan leaders seemed to be a sign of rudeness and an invitation for a brawl. I didn't have time to mention that, however, because Merida started sparring with her dad. I stood back, held the axe with both hands and watched, praying that my turn wouldn't come. At least not for a couple of years.

* * *

Fighting with an axe was nothing like fencing. I already knew that from a childhood spent repairing axes instead of wielding them, but neither Fergus nor Merida cared. And unlike a sword, which can strike someone without nicking their skin, an axe head always left a mark, sometimes lethal.

Toothless climbed out of the river, eyes filled with lazy pleasure. He chewed on a large salmon and watched me stumble.

"You know, I'd appreciate it if you acted on your protective instinct at some point," I called to him.

He rolled over and swallowed his fish. Merida hid a smile behind her hand.

"He's gotten too familiar with us training you; that's why he's not worried."

"Cut off my hand, then, so he'll respond?"

She shoved me with her free hand. I dropped the axe and rubbed my arms. Toothless didn't even bat an eye, useless reptile. Angus, Merida's horse, lay down beside him and nickered.

Fergus seemed to realize that I was out of my element after half an hour of watching me stumble. My feet forgot the poses needed to ground my stance, and twice I nearly sliced myself when falling. He didn't stop correcting me, however.

"Hiccup, you have to adjust for the extra weight. An axe can cause more damage than a sword, hence why they're a more common weapon."

"Runts like me aren't supposed to have extra weight," I muttered. He responded by poking my stomach with the wooden handle. Merida laughed and did the same thing. Wood tickles painfully.

"Also, never be sarcastic with an armed man. They often aren't thinking."

Yeah, Fergus, I got that from a lifetime spent on Berk. But sarcasm was the only defense against larger boys and stronger men. It helped me ignore my small size.

It also helped me realize how ridiculous we Vikings were, even at our best form.

The most I could do with an axe was block, and it wasn't just because of the weight. If fencing allowed me to control that violent part of me, axe-fighting threatened to release it. I couldn't go down that path again, not after Merida and Fergus had shown my how to harness it.

Afterward, the three of us drenched with sweat, the king halted the lesson. Merida then revealed a picnic basket filled with fresh-baked bread, chicken legs, apples, and fruit cakes. The boys cheered on seeing the cakes and started cramming them into their red mouths. I found myself famished and took some chicken for myself. Toothless eyed the legs but didn't ask for a bite.

The king drank two flasks of ale and downed a whole loaf of bread with three fruit cakes. Then he lay down, and the boys tied his feet together as he slept. They also placed a sprig of lemongrass on his face so that it blew back and forth with his snores.

I unbuttoned my cloak and set it beside me. Merida sat beside me with a white bundle in her lap. She passed it to me.

"What is it?"

"A bribe," she said, tossing her head back with a wink.

I nodded after opening the bundle. Another slice of apple pie, hot from the morning oven.

"You still want to hear how I got these bruises."

"Well, I DID take you to see the witch." She covered her mouth on hearing her father snort through the lemongrass. "So . . ."

I passed the warm pastry from hand to hand. The boys popped up like Bog Roses, all six eyes on me.

A small smile appeared on my face, amused at their interest. Maybe it was because I had just told the same tale to the witch that morning, but the words came out more easily the second time. The boys' faces darkened in the right places, and even Merida let a frown darken her face. I finished, and the frown stayed.

"I can see why you didn't want to tell anyone." She raised thin fingers to touch my chest. It wasn't a romantic gesture, not like how Astrid had stroked the bruises. "As you said, it's not a story filled with heroes."

"What did I tell you?" I shrugged with a sarcastic grin. "Told you you'd be disappointed."

"I'm not disappointed." She pursed her lips to find the right words. "At least I know why you've been a draugr. It's not just that you killed those two men. It's what they did to you."

"Pardon?"

"Those Viking chiefs, they didn't treat you the way a chief's son ought to be treated," she said, blunt as the axes that we had been swinging. "Not even the four clan lords would see you as a weapon. You did a great thing, training Toothless and saving their sorry hides from that monstrous green blighter."

I looked away from her.

"Hiccup, you had to kill those men. They did a terrible thing, trying to enslave you."

"Then why did killing them feel just as terrible?" I let the question hang in the hair. "If what the chiefs like Norbert the Nutjob agreed on was wrong, how come I'm the one in exile? Why did they think I should get the Slavemark?"

She took a moment to answer. The boys' eyes switched to the crumbling pie. I held out my apple-laden hands, and let them help themselves. They took handfuls and chewed nervously.

"It's because no one told them what they did was wrong," she said. "In our family, if someone makes a mistake, they learn quickly what they've done. Sometimes it takes a while, but we learn." She glanced at her snoring father and bit her lip.

"So who should have told them?"

"You should have."

I glanced up. She took in my angry, surprised look.

"With all respect, Merida, I was bedridden at the time and suffering from hallucinations caused by snake venom."

"It doesn't matter; you didn't defend yourself," she said. "You didn't feel like you should have."

Another notched arrow that hit its mark. "Because I did withhold dragon training from the tribes."

"Not on purpose. Not because you wanted a battle advantage," she pointed out. "I don't think you're capable of any wickedness, Hiccup."

I snorted. "I killed two men."

"In self-defense."

"Even my dad was scared of me."

"You did what you had to do. That doesn't make it the wrong thing to do."

We sat in silence. _It wasn't my fault._ How many people had been telling me that, only for it to sink in months later? Would I still be on Berk if I had staggered out of bed and told the chiefs what they could do with their exile?

Toothless sensed my troubled thoughts. He came between us and nuzzled me.

"You want to go for a ride, bud?" I patted him. "Aren't you too stuffed with fish?"

He slapped me with his ear. I managed to laugh.

"Let me come with you," Merida said.

That stopped the laughter. She stood up, all serious. So did the boys.

"I want to know what you were trying to protect when you saved him that night in the stable. And you wouldn't be withholding information from the Scottish princess and firstborn to Clan Fergus."

If I had known what would happen during the ride, I would have said no. Told her to stay on the ground with her dad. But I wasn't a witch, and I wasn't Gothi. So I didn't know what was going to happen.

"Fine. Just don't cling to me for dear life. That's what Astrid did when she first rode Toothless."

She punched me. "I don't cling, draugr."


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three

** live laugh play music- Oh, not exactly. But Alvin IS involved with this.**

I climbed on first, to stabilize Toothless. He warbled with anticipation. Merida picked up each of her brothers and placed them in front.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," I said. The triplets scrambled to find adequate sitting space on my dragon, giving me identical innocent looks.

"They're here for chastity purposes," Merida explained with a mischievous gleam. "If anyone sees us, we can say they're our chaperones."

"Merida, we're not going to be up for that long." I offered a hand and pulled her up behind me. "This is just to give you a taste and Toothless some exercise. We're not leaving your father's sight."

She glanced at her dad. "That would help if he were awake."

I got off Toothless, leaving the boys to start fighting over who sat in the saddle. Fergus was still snoring, but I bent down and plucked the lemongrass off his beard.

"Your Highness? Fergus?"

"Hiccup!" Merida hissed.

I rolled my eyes and nudged Fergus with both hands. His beard fluttered with stray lemongrass threads. He groaned and rubbed his eyes.

"What is the matter, lad?

"Fergus, I'm going to take Merida and the boys for a short hover, within your sight. Is that permissible?"

"As long as the boys are between you and Merida," he grunted, rolling over to sleep.

"Thank you." I ran back to Toothless.

"He could have said no," Merida pointed out with a large frown.

"Merida, your dad can swing a mean ax, in case you've forgotten." I mimed a slash across my throat. "I don't my head cut off if something's not proper."

"My dad wouldn't do that. He doesn't think you're a threat."

"That's a relief," I said, climbing back onto Toothless. The boys scooted back to make room. Merida clambered on with their help.

"That's not what I meant; you're family, so you're safe."

"We're very distant cousins, with one common ancestor. I thought royals were notorious for marrying-"

"No Scottish royal would marry his cousin," she said firmly. "And with all due respect, you're not my type. Dad knows that. So you're a safe cousin to ride with."

We didn't talk anymore because we had to adjust for the three additional passengers. The triplets weren't heavy, but they occupied space. If they had to be squeezed between me and Merida without becoming Scottish flat cakes, Merida had to place herself right on the edge of the saddle.

"This is not going to work," she stated when in that position. The boys understood and got off so she could get directly behind me. Toothless ignored the activity on his back.

"Your dad is going to kill me," I said, two boys in front of me and one in Merida's arms.

"He's not going to wake up and see us," she said. "And it's a short ride, as you said."

Toothless spread his wings and let the autumn breeze spin him into the air. He flapped, and the wind blew Fergus's beard. Both eyes opened.

"Up, Toothless!" Merida said. "I want to see how Vikings see!"

My dragon quickly shot into the air, leaving the ground and an open-mouthed king behind. Merida and the triplets squealed with delight as cold autumn rushed past us.

"Toothless, hover!" I ordered, adjusting the tail-fin. We slowed down just before the cloud cover, and he spread his wings like they were black umbrellas.

The river remained below us, as did Fergus. He shouted at us, probably to come down. Merida didn't think so.

"Dad, you need to try this!" she called down. "You can see for miles. Look, Hubert! It's our home!" She held up her baby brother and he clapped his hands with glee.

And indeed we could see for miles. There were mountains in the distant east, cold and craggy with cloud cover, but the midday sun cast a reassuring gleam on the rest of Scotland. Hills rolled with no purpose, and the waves in the sea glittered. Even I, who had seen the Northern lights with Astrid, found myself amazed. Dunbroch for the first time looked beautiful.

Toothless kept flapping, with the same smile he had when taking Astrid and me to see the Northern Lights. Hamish in the back patted his tail, while Harris focused on my left prosthetic and the pedal. He was smiling but thinking at the same time.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," I said with sincerity. "Just one thing, Merida."

"What's that?" She swiveled to give Hubert the panoramic view.

"Only I tell Toothless where to fly," I patted my dragon. "He's my dragon. So don't give him orders."

Toothless slapped my hand, but with affection. Merida smirked at my protectiveness.

"Then maybe I have to learn how to ride him."

"In your dreams." My tone softened. "Maybe I can find a dragon for you on Berk to ride, for you and your brothers. At the Academy-"

"Yeah about that," she interrupted. "There's something that just occurred to me now."

"What?"

"Alvin wants you to teach him to train dragons. But there's a growing Academy open to every Viking tribe with materials for trading, with the information is flowing like wine through your home." She frowned, though not at me. "Wouldn't it be less effort for him to buy the information, or send spies into the Academy?"

Leave it to Merida to spoil the tranquility of the moment. Toothless and I returned the frown. We weren't focusing on the atmosphere around that.

"Alvin isn't exactly in his right mind." I tried to sound like I meant it, or at least adding sarcasm to the situation. "Especially since he's recovering from a slit throat that I gave him. He thinks I owe him dragon training lessons, for starters."

"Then it's not about training dragons anymore, is it?" She frowned at the horizon.

We stared at that spot over the horizon, me trying to find a response. There wasn't a right one. Merida seemed to have realized she had crossed a line, and she was trying to find a soothing landmark in the distance.

One of the boys gave an alarmed whistle. We turned to see Harris pointing in the other direction and hopping onto my dragon's head. Toothless screeched and swiveled a few seconds too late.

Something whirled towards us. It resembled a dummy made of ropes and stones. I recognized its design just as it wrapped around us. Merida held Hubert out of the way, but he nearly slipped out of her grasp. Harris DID lose his grip, and he started to fall beside us. To his credit, he only screamed for a few moments.

"No! Oh no no no!" I cried as we started to drive. Hamish was pinned to Toothless's tail, but Harris assumed a sky-diving position. He climbed towards us and clung to the ropes, pulling out a small knife.

"Hubert! Get my hunting knife!" Merida shouted, pressed to me thanks to the rope. "Free Toothless's wings!"

Her brother reached, not an easy feat since we were falling at a rapid rate and he had to twist like a piece of dough. The thick blade appeared in his small hands, and he started to cut at Merida's bonds. Which was good, because I couldn't think of a way out, arms pinned to Toothless's sides. I couldn't _think_, period.

This was MY invention, the long-range automatic bola that had brought down Toothless. Someone had rebuilt it and fired at us.

* * *

It wasn't that Toothless and I were falling out of control. That had happened too many times to scare either of us. It was that we were falling because someone had stopped us from flying. In the air, we were an invincible team, fast as lightning and just as deadly accurate. Even after the Green Death had knocked us out of the sky, we had simply gotten back up with new prosthetics. But now? Ropes and rocks made us wriggling worms plunging for the ground.

No wonder Toothless had hated me when we had first met, since I had created the bola that brought him down and smashed his tail-fin. If this is how he had crashed into those trees, then he must have lost that feeling of invincibility.

Fergus ran beneath us, spreading out his arms. He seemed prepared to break our fall if necessary, which was gracious of him. The boys kept slashing furiously, and the ropes started to snap. The river grew larger beneath us, and I feared that its wet rocks would crack our bones.

When I had designed the bolas for the machine, I had accounted for a dragon's two wings, four legs, and fire-breathing jaws; that meant that there were about six ropes to worry about. That this dragon had riders meant that the ropes were stretched tightly across us.

One wing became free, and it knocked Harris away. Fergus yelled and dove. He caught his toddler son in the chest, rolling to the ground with the impact. That meant he couldn't cushion our crash since he fell in the other direction.

Toothless's free wing flapped, making us veer from the river. Hubert cut through Merida's bonds so that her arms were free. She grabbed the hunting knife from her brother, held him tight, and slashed through the ropes around Toothless's other wing. He spread both out and crashed on his bound feet, holding his tail high in the air so that Hamish didn't get hurt. Even so, we slid for a long time in the grass, and we felt the impact. Normally a fall like this would have knocked all of us off, but the ropes strapped us together. I would have preferred getting knocked off Toothless to the vibrations rattling through our bones.

Heavy breaths filled the air, even as Merida cut herself free and hopped to rescue Hamish. Toothless lifted his tail to oblige her.

"Quick thinking, Merida." I tried not to show how hard I had been panicking. "You know how to keep a level head."

She shrugged, hiding her pleasure at the compliment. Hamish wrapped his arms around her skirt before climbing to join his brother in her arms. "A giant invincible bear once held me in his clutches. Nothing is scarier than that."

"Hiccup! Merida! Boys!" Fergus ran, Hubert clutching his head. "Are you okay."

"Fine," I said. "I'm used to getting shot down every time I ride my dragon."

"That shouldn't have happened," he said. "When I find out who did it, he's going to wish he never messed with the Bear King's children!"

Merida came to cut me loose, weighted down by her brothers. The knife found its way on my sleeve just as we heard a horde of hooves.

"That must be them!" She turned and drew her sword. "Come out, you bloody cowards and show your faces!"

Her bold expression vanished when we saw an army of Scots, with three different banners. One leader was short with a white mustache, another tall and bulky with a blond beard, and the third a skinny blue-faced ruffian pushing back long black hair. They all held spears and swords, ones that hadn't slashed through stomachs yet.

"Let me guess," I said without emotion, still tied to Toothless and wishing we weren't so prominent. "These are the lords."

Merida nodded, an angry blush to her cheeks. "Looks like they decided to hunt while we were gone. Or look for us."

Fergus approached them sheepishly and spoke apologetic words. About several hundred eyes remained on me, most tainted with suspicion, and they held their weapons at the ready. I returned the hostile, suspicious stare. Then I glanced at Merida and gestured at the remaining bonds.

"Oh; sorry, draugr!" She wasted no time with slashing them with her sword. She left a scratch on my arm, but I didn't say anything. I hopped off and stroked Toothless, who was shaking the ropes off his head.

"You all right, bud?"

He gave a slight nod and growled at the men who surrounded us. His tail curled with suspicion.

"Yeah. Any of them could have fired the automatic bola, if they had caught sight of us." I scanned the army for a contraption that resembled a wheelbarrow with rocks and ropes. They huddled closer together, as if sensing what I was thinking.

The largest lord stepped forward; I backed into Toothless automatically. Fergus clasped his hands and explained in soothing tones. He gestured to Merida and me and to the leaves falling into the sky.

"So your daughter and sons went for a ride with this Viking?" The short lord with the white mustache asked. "And you thought it was safe?"

"It was safe until some idiot tried to shoot us out of the sky!" Merida shouted. She went to stand by her dad. "I was ordering him as princess to show me how he rides his dragon. He has to obey me!"

Normally such an insult would have made me glower, but I saw what Merida was doing. She was taking responsibility for the flight, for being with the enemy, albeit an enemy diplomat. That made me less of a threat and less of a spectacle.

"Does he obey you with other aspects?" The black-haired chief asked, eyeing me. I returned the body scan as a youth with his hair marched forward.

"Yeah, you're not supposed to be courting anyone other than a Scot, princess." The youth brushed his silky hair back as we spoke.

"He's not courting me!" Merida told him. "He already has a girlfriend!"

That sparkled more murmurs from the crowd.

"Thank you, Merida," I muttered under my breath. "That really ought to make a good first impression."

* * *

You could imagine the procession marching back to the castle on horseback- a hundred sullen hunters watching my dragon with greedy eyes, hands itching to piece his black scales with arrows, three disgruntled lords who only calmed down when promised the best wine from the king's cellars, and three firstborn sons who looked as though they wanted to rip me in two. At least, two of the three did; the third, a skinny blond boy an inch taller than me, provided this threat.

"I'm a berserker and firstborn to Clan Dingwall," he said when he rode next to Toothless; even on the ground my dragon could keep up with horses. "So if you lay one hand on the princess-"

"A berserker!" I exclaimed, with no small admiration. "So you have the ability to go wild on opponents and tear them apart! That makes you powerful as a solo warrior!"

This praise threw him off-balance. "You've heard of us?"

"There's a whole tribe of Vikings called Berserkers. They tend to wrap themselves in chains to restrain their anger. Not someone you want to mess with at their Dead of Night Ceremony." I forced a laugh when remembering their ships on Frigga's Promise. "They're also one of the most respected warriors."

"Well, anyway-"

"I'm not interested in the princess, Wee Dingwall," I said, choosing my words carefully. "I'm only here for a diplomatic mission. She wanted to ride my dragon, and I'm the only one who can ride him. Let's just say if I had said no, her dad would have swung several axes at me."

Toothless waved his tail-fin prosthetic for emphasis. Wee Dingwall took it in.

"Kind of young for a diplomat, aren't you?"

The other blond boy, who looked like he could rip me in two with his bare hands, started jabbering in a heavy Scottish dialect. Then, seeing my confused face, he bent and whispered into the ear of the black-haired firstborn. The black-haired boy was too willing to translate.

"Wee MacGuffin wants to know how much you weigh."

Toothless snapped at the two of them. I smiled at the two of them.

"Not more than ninety pounds. Why?"

"He's trying to figure out how far he could throw you."

My smile faded. I hunched my shoulders. Wee MacGuffin spoke again in his heavy accent. The black-haired son sighed.

"He also says he wouldn't because it seems you're doing your best not to anger us."

"You happen have to have three armies backing you up," I said. "You'd just have to snap your fingers, and I'd be beheaded."

"But you have a dragon, one that has taken on armies."

"Uh, no. That's an exaggeration. Only one army twice, and it was about six to ten men." I didn't voice these Scottish armies had the means to take us down before we'd even reach the treetops, because there was no proof and I couldn't see if any of them were.

"Kind of cautionary for a boy who's trained dragons." The black-haired one said. "I've heard you were the impulsive type who slits men's throats for fun."

"Cautious, Wee Macintosh," Wee Dingwall corrected him.

"I don't slit throats for fun," I said, bristling. "Who told you that?"

"Everyone," they said at the same time, even Wee Macguffin with his heavy dialect.

"It's common knowledge," Wee Macintosh told me.

This was how the next hour or so went, and seeing Elinor greet us was even better. She bid the lords welcome, thanked them for finding us, and told them dinner was ready. They rushed in just as the evening winds howled against the castle. Ice seemed to cover the stars.

Elinor grabbed Merida, Fergus and me- don't ask how, because I don't know how- and dragged. Our feet clopped against the stairs at a rapid pace. She took us to the room where I had my lessons. Toothless followed with questioning eyes, the triplets on his back.

"I can't believe you would all be so- selfish," she spat out the words. "Least of you, Hiccup. I'd expect this from Merida on her worse days, but you're a prince! You should know better!"

I was able to protest, "I'm not a prince!" before Fergus and Merida rose to my defense.

"It was my idea, Mum," Merida told her. "I wanted to learn how to fight better, and I thought that taking Hiccup with me would suit his desire to ride before the frost sets in! I was trying to help him!"

"And it's not the first time we've had fighting lessons on a whim!" Fergus added.

"Don't you remember the last time you upset the lords?" Elinor asked both of them. "We were on the brink of war! And you!" She turned to Toothless. My dragon, who faced down terrifying Outcasts while sedated as well as the Green Death, cowered into a black and blue ball. The triplets hopped off and hid behind them.

"What did Toothless do?" I asked with exasperation.

"He let this happen!" She wagged a finger at his penitent eyes. "He should be looking out for you! What if you had been taken? What if the lords had decided to shoot you on sight?"

"But Elinor, they didn't," Fergus said. "And they also needed the last ride before winter. They understood why we went."

That seemed to calm her down. He grasped her arms and hugged her.

"Mum," Merida said with sincerity, "Hiccup had nothing to do with this. Neither did Toothless. They were innocent bystanders so I could practice my ax-swinging with them."

I couldn't believe the sheer bald-faced lie, or the guilt that overwhelmed me. Merida looked so sincere with her red face and redder hair. Before I could confess, admit it WAS my fault and I had everything to do with the outing, Elinor spoke.

"I don't want any more surprise outings. The lords were asking lots of questions about you, Hiccup. They seemed to think you were a murdering dragon conqueror who was after the princess's hand."

"What?" Merida and I both exclaimed.

"Exactly." She nodded at them. "Don't give them reason to ask more questions. Go wash up, and you can eat."

Heads hung, we walked to our individual quarters. Toothless's head was drooping the most, but Merida's shot up the minute her dad went to his bedroom.

"We did it!" she whispered. "Mum didn't even suspect!"

"No," I said with sarcasm. "But the lords do. This evening could not have gone worse."

The gods seemed determined to prove me wrong. Merida went to her room, and I walked to mine. Then Toothless and I stopped. The door was ajar, and faint singing came from within, as did the strong smell of dragon nip. I actually still remember the words that burst at us:

_"They came to his house in a blue open night, _

_And the word they said was, "Exile!_

_You must leave Rome now, your city, your life_

_But you may take what you want, _

_Take what you want, take it fast!"_

"Wait here bud," I told Toothless. He growled at me. "The dragon nip will knock you out; he doesn't want you in his presence. Which is a shame for him."

Toothless understood but looked chagrined. He stood by the door like a sentry. I opened it and went in. The door shut behind me, and the thin figure got up from my bed, holding the altar. He stopped singing.

"I got your message, _highness_," Loki said.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Stratoc- Eee, more mass reviews! I'm highly flattered. It was fun to write Astrid and Merida bickering, because they're so similar and care about Hiccup. In Merida's case, however, the affection is platonic.**

**(Confession: I made up most of these formalities. Not sure what the actual ones would involve.)**

**Hiccup's been away from home for a month, but Frigga's Promise was four months ago. No wonder he still remembers it clearly. **

**The Inked Pen- Yes, oh Loki. If you like him, you make like him in my fic The HTTYD Easter Special.**

"Have a seat, please," Loki said. He patted the bed with one hand and balanced the altar with the other.

I didn't want to displease the trickster god, so I sat. A pot burned on the floor, with smoke and the smell of burnt dragon nip mixed with the smoke.

"Incense burner. Popular in the East," Loki said. He approached, and I stood up straight. "Thank you, highness."

"Um, you're welcome. For the altar?"

He nodded and stroked the fox's carved fur. "It's been many years since I helped Odd open the Bifrost. He must be in his late thirties by now. I ought to visit him. Thank you for reminding me of brilliance in small, apparently useless forms. I made a handsome fox."

A smile lit his pale face, and it made him look human. His dark eyes reminded me that he wasn't.

I let him reminisce. He was a god, after all, and he could find some way to smite me. Loki's boots made no sounds as he paced back and forth between me on the bed. He was skinny and small for a man his age, which was probably several hundred years; if I hadn't known any better, I would have thought he was a handsome man born a runt like me.

"So," he said turning sharply to me, "why did you seek an audience?"

I swallowed, sat up straight, and met his eyes. "I wish for you to make one of your men mortal. A man called Alvin the Treacherous."

"Oh. That's it?" It seemed to amuse Loki. "I'm guessing some idiot tried to kill Alvin and is now in fear for his life?"

"You could say that."

Loki's thin cheeks ballooned; he threatened to laugh. "Who was the stupid man who wanted to kill my trickster servant?"

"I was."

Loki had the tact to swallow his laugh, so that only a strangled chuckle came out. His face lost the amusement however, and he managed only one comment.

"You're not a man; you're only a boy."

"Tell that to Alvin. He wanted to sew my mouth shut. I was acting in self-defense. It's a long story."

He sat down on the bed next to me, at a chaste distance. A boyish expression lit up his face. He wanted to hear everything.

"Son of Odin and Frigga, it really is a long story, and now is not the best time," I said wearily. "But the upshot is that ever since I did the throat-slitting, Alvin has made attempts to - not to kill me, but he's making my life a living Helheim."

"Helheim's not that bad," he responded. "My daughter runs the place. Smart girl."

"I believe you. But anyway," I took a deep breath, "Alvin has been misusing his immortality. Maybe once he was a good servant, outwitting those stronger than him and filling the world with amusement, but now he merely wants to pick on a Viking who defied him, who outsmarted him."_ It's not about training dragons anymore._

"He's hurt you, hasn't he? You've got the look in your eye."

I took off my cloak, unbuttoned the front of my shirt and opened the collar. Loki whistled when he saw the fresh bruises. Not in a, "Oh, those bruises really accentuate your chest for the better" way but, "who in the name of Helheim did that to you and why would they?"

"Son of Odin, you're known for valuing intelligence, especially in those who are ostracized and under-powered. Odd like me had a broken leg, and he was the smallest in his family of step siblings, but he decided to fight a Frost Giant much larger than him with nothing but a wood carving. You helped him travel to Asgard because you recognized what he could do."

"I did."

"I ask you to make Alvin mortal so as to even the odds. He is large and strong, with an army at his beck and a gifted tongue for spreading lies. Let it be a fairer fight than it has been."

"A fairer fight." He scratched his beardless chin and considered. "A man should never pick on a child, no matter how resourceful the child is. He's destroyed your reputation, gotten you exiled; there is no other reason for a Viking to be so far from home."

I dipped my head in a nod.

"You seem resourceful, having tamed a dragon and survived with the Scots, but I need to see your wits in action."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been hanging around the castle, listening." Amusement crept back into his voice. "Some of the lords believe you are just a puppet diplomat; that you cannot help bridge the Scots and Vikings who have been feuding for years. If you can prove them wrong, make actual peace, then I will make Alvin the Treacherous mortal."

That didn't seem fair. "Alvin gave them a device that I invented. He must have reverse-engineered it so that they could capture my dragon. I know he's been spreading rumors, because there's no one else who could."

"So now you see what game to play." He let a grin light up his face. "A battle of wits to see if a child can defend himself and his reputation. A chance to build bridges while crafty men wait with torches to burn them. It will be exciting!"

Yeah. Exciting to a bored trickster god. Why was I surprised?

"Loki, how will I know if he's mortal? Will I have to cut him up into several pieces to make sure?"

He thought about it, and reached into his black vest. A shimmering, familiar sword. Endeavor! He had repaired my sword!

"I knew your ancestor Hamish," he said, handing it to me. "Another resourceful Hiccup who knew to respect me. He forged Endeavor with his own hands and dedicated its blade to my service."

I held the blade. It wasn't the same Endeavor that lay in twisted pieces; this sword felt lighter than air, as if hewn from moonlight. The rust had vanished, and the Berk crest shone with pleasure from the handle. I may as well have been holding a sharp silver feather. Loki had made a shallow, beautiful replica.

"When this blade breaks, you know that Alvin can be killed." For the first time his lips throbbed with fury. "A man who would break a great sword does not deserve the gift of immortality. Hamish was one of my friends. How else could he have survived exile and return to Berk?"

Hamish seemed to have a lot of immortal male friends as well as a Scottish princess for a lover.

"I know how you feel about this blade; I can see it in your face. It's a piece of perfection, a testament to my genius." He tossed his head back as I shook my head. "Don't try to lie, it's the first sword you wielded with confidence. But you have blacksmith burns, meaning you can forge another one. A better blade."

"I don't do swords. My teacher- Gobber- he had me make repairs and such. They're not practical on Berk, so I've only built inventions involving axes and bolas."

"It's your choice. But if you do make a decent sword," his eyes glittered, "dedicate it to me. Just as a token of your devotion."

"If I make a decent sword." I shrugged. "Maybe I can ask Morgan to teach me the craft, if he ever stops handing me weapons to repair."

"Maybe." Loki seemed to lighten up. "I better let you go now; your dragon is growling from outside. If you speak to those lords like you spoke with me, then Alvin should be dead by the end of the week."

"I didn't speak with you that well, considering . . ."

"Considering I caught you after a tiring afternoon, after the queen chewed you out and the lords have your invention?" His eyes twinkled. "Your fear and determination kept your words in line. Know your goal, and know your fear."

"I don't understand."

"Understand soon then. I'll be taking my leave now." He stood, and his black cloak swished around him. "Remember what Jason, Frigga's mortal said: _'You need the chiefs' sympathy but not their pity, and you need to tell them a good story. Straddle the line between Conqueror and child.'_"

"How did you know he said that?" I stood up as well.

"I'm the trickster god. I remember every bit of good advice for small heroes." The cloak wrapped around his head, and he vanished. The pot of burning dragon nip disappeared with him, but the scent remained. It made my head spin as I hung my cloak.

* * *

It was the first time I had been allowed back in my room for weeks. The water felt colder as I swirled it between my hands, watched soap wipe the grime away. I knew now how to wipe my fingers properly on the basin towel, slip a few drops of water behind my ears to reduce tension. A clean shirt, plain brown and slightly baggy, made me feel almost human.

I left Endeavor in the room. A glittery sword would attract too much attention, and Merida would ask questions. Loki wouldn't let anything happen to it till Alvin died.

Toothless walked with me down the stairs; we heard loud, drunken singing and bagpipes. King Fergus was leading his soldiers on a rendition of "Mordu, Mordu" as the other lords glared with boredom. Queen Elinor smiled and drank a small goblet of wine, staying a safe distance from her husband's swinging arms. Their sons sat with Merida, who talked intently. If they were courting her, they had an odd way of showing it; no trophies as gifts, flowers, or even restrained gestures.

The lords looked up sharply as we walked in. Their eyes fixed on my dragon; he narrowed his yellow pupils in response. Fergus kept singing, oblivious, and the musicians took their lead. I gave the lords a tight smile and edged towards Merida and the sons, feeling I could better negotiate with teenagers than with adults. This was just another day at the Dragon Academy, preparing for a great quest or treasure hunt.

"Good of you to join us!" Merida said, a plate of cakes in front of her. Her brothers popped up at the other end of the table, squished between Wee Dingwall and Wee Macintosh, and eyed her. She pressed a finger to her lips and slipped the cakes under her table. Wee MacGuffin made a stomping sound and spoke.

"Wee MacGuffin says you spoil them rotten," Wee Macintosh said. "They wouldn't run rampant if you didn't let them."

"That's not my fault." Merida picked up an apple and took a large bite of it. She grinned through a mouthful of apple juice. "Sweets are the only way to get them to listen. If their teeth rot, it's their loss."

Giggles faded beneath the table. Wee MacGuffin spoke more. Wee Macintosh translated.

"Apparently the boys at the MacGuffin household are on a tight leash, raised on military discipline. They have to report to lessons every day and keep their boots clean. He- I mean, Wee MacGuffin- has to set an example for the rest of them."

"I don't have to set an example," Merida said. "And I shouldn't. Last time I did-"

"Yes?" Wee Dingwall asked innocently.

"I embarrassed you all last time I tried to set an example," Merida said, biting her lip. "And nearly got our clans murdering each other; that was quite a kerfuffle. I don't want the boys doing that."

"I don't think they would," I said softly.

All four looked at me.

"Why not?" Wee Dingwall demanded, leaning over the table.

"Because-" I looked to Merida.

"You can tell them your theory, Hiccup. They don't bite. Well, Wee Dingwall does, but I'll punch him if he shows a single fang."

"That's what berserkers do," he grumbled. "Teeth are very useful weapons."

I took a deep breath, thought of Elinor's lessons, her legends and historical facts.

"It's because I've seen how the boys work together as a team, to protect their family and their sister." I nodded at Merida. "They have a strong bond at such a young age and such strong love, even if they have atypical ways of showing it. They actually remind me of two twins who grew up on my island."

Apparently that sent out a different message: "Story time!" Each firstborn son huddled closer and leaned forward, and even Merida turned to watch my face. I could feel the triplets cupping my trousers with crumb-covered hands.

Odin help me. "So. Ruffnut and Tuffnut. Typical brother and sister. Enjoy punching each other more than anything else in the world, except using their dragon to-" I paused, remembering my audience, "- tip yaks."

"Tip yaks?" Merida raised an eyebrow.

"Tip yaks." I nodded. "It was their way of causing trouble. You wouldn't these two would be more than pranksters. Or kinky Vikings. But then some bad Vikings took their dragon." _The Outcasts also took me, but I'm not important._

That was the cue for them to lean in closer. Some of their bench-mates also turned to listen.

"They what?" Wee Macintosh asked.

"The twins have a two-headed dragon. Each twin rides on a different head." This seemed to impress my small group. "If the twins fight, the heads fight as well. In essence, it's like having a dragon version of them.

"But anyway, a group of rogue Vikings took their dragon, tied it up and carried it off on a ship. Ruff and Tuff got angry. That's not unusual for a Viking warrior. What was unusual was that they stopped fighting each other and started fighting together. They became an unstoppable team."

I take no credit for the ballad that would erupt from my little anecdote, about how Ruffnut and Tuffnut smashed about twenty Outcasts by covering each other's backs. The twins were quite pleased when they heard bards singing about them. Who knew that bagpipe players could listen to Viking diplomats and play at the same time?

I was careful with what I said as well. The other reason the twins had kicked Outcast butt? Because the Outcasts had taken me, and because the Outcasts had called me "Dragon Conqueror." No need to make myself a Viking in distress and invite pity.

I ended with this point: "You may think that simple bickering and no discipline can tear a family apart. Sometimes it can. But a family will come together if a wicked person or thing threatens it, like a rogue Viking, and that family will stay united. No matter what."

Silence from under the table, and from my audience. Merida gave a small clap, as if I had performed a difficult monologue in front of a stage. I felt the small hands slip something sticky into my hands. I looked down and found a plump cake there.

"There's something I don't get," Wee Macintosh speared a chicken. "The twins were protecting their dragon? Isn't it the other way around?"

I shook my head. "It works both ways. When you bond with a dragon, you become its friend, not its master. You watch each other's backs." I patted Toothless's head. "I can hardly figure out who has saved the other more: me or Toothless. It's the same with every dragon and his rider."

"That's not what I heard." Wee Macintosh tore into his chicken the way Snotlout would. "I heard they have a massive protective instinct that makes them go nuts and set everything on fire. That's why the Vikings want to learn to ride them."

Breath caught in my throat. Toothless intently at the black-haired teen.

"Toothless has not set things on fire every time I'm in danger," I said coolly. "He usually just tries to catch me if we're falling or hisses to make people go away."

"Toothless is a sweet dragon!" Merida admonished Wee Macintosh. She picked up a fish, let Toothless swallow it, and she petted him. "If I didn't have Angus, I'd be seduced by him entirely."

Toothless laid his head against her arms, closing his eyes with bliss.

"You are a spoiled reptile," I told him. He batted his tail at me.

"You let him do that?" Wee Dingwall asked with shock.

"Not much I can do about it," I admitted, putting the tail down. "Toothless does what he wants, except eat all the fish at home. It took me ages to learn how to bond with him."

"But I thought you were a Dragon Conqueror!" Wee Macintosh broke in. "They say that you conquered a dragon the size of a mountain and the unholy offspring of lightning and death!"

Toothless opened his eyes and hissed at Wee Macintosh for bringing up the last part. Merida shot the young lord a dirty look. That gave me time to shut down my automatic "Dragon Trainer" response.

_Straddle the line between Conqueror and child. Use the title that Alvin gave you as a weapon._

I did what Elinor taught me and straightened my back. No one could accuse me of withholding information now, and Alvin could get the same knowledge from academy spies. I smiled a wan smile and looked all the lords' sons in the eyes, and revised my response.

"I did conquer a dragon the size of a mountain, but I _trained_ the unholy offspring of lightning and death after shooting him down from the sky. So, I've only conquered one dragon."

Wee MacGuffin stood up and asked something. Wee Macintosh opened his mouth to translate, but I already knew what he wanted to know.

"How did I do it? With a lot of trial and error." I leaned back. Toothless returned to my lap, ready to reenact the night we never forgot. I placed the triplets' cake on the table and started narrating again. This time everyone at the table listened. The bagpipes stopped played. The candles went low, and I swore I heard a low chuckle and the swish of a black cloak.

Loki had known what Jason had said on Frigga's Promise. Maybe he had also known why I had failed to defend myself on that island. Maybe this was a second chance.

The lords then came over as well. Fergus and Elinor tried to wave them back, but they stood a distance from their sons and watched me. By then I was describing my first proper flight with Toothless, so I was able to focus on the sensation of falling past the threatening mountains.

The lords' eyes told me one thing: I couldn't get away with clearing my own reputation. I had to listen to them as well. So much for second chances.


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Spannerspoon- Thank you! And wow, you read fast! Twenty-five chapters in one day!**

The longer I talked, the more others crowded around the table. The triplets climbed onto my lap, each fighting for the middle spot.

I polished off a goblet of strong mead, despite not liking the taste or the burn, because my throat was getting dry. Another goblet of water helped me keep my thoughts in control.

"Wait a minute," Merida interrupted. "Astrid went for a ride on Toothless, and she was SCARED?"

I paused. Wicked glee had taken over Merida's face. She had petted Toothless to sleep on her lap, feeding him fish after fish.

"Toothless . . . didn't like Astrid," I said carefully. "Not at first. That's because she knocked me to the ground trying to find out why I had beaten her at Dragon Training."

It may have been the mead, but the memory of that incredible day bloomed inside me. Astrid cleaning the sharp blade of her axe, circling and twisting my arm when I tried to stop her from finding Toothless. I had never blamed her for going on the offensive, and Toothless had more than forgiven her.

"Toothless didn't like someone roughing up his rider, least of all a blond Viking. She ran to tell the village, and we followed her."

"You did? When you were planning to run away anyway?" Wee Dingwall demanded. "Why?"

That made me stop to think. Merida, red-cheeked from eating too many apples, leaned in but kept her hands around Toothless. The triplets met my eyes at the same time, creating a disoriented effect.

"First, Toothless insisted. He was chasing after her no matter what, and if he had caught up with her just as she reached the village . . ." I cleared my throat. "That was the first reason. Flying, we overtook Astrid easily. Second, she's the smartest warrior in our village; if anyone could change their minds about dragons, it was Astrid."

"Smartest?" Merida snorted. "Smart enough that she got Toothless angry?"

My dragon warbled in agreement, but she had scratched him under the chin till he was senseless. For all he knew we were talking about pickled haddock.

"In Astrid's defense, all dragons are supposed to be killed on sight," I said. "Or rather, they were. She was probably worried that having a dragon near the village, that Toothless was dangerous. And she thought he'd attack me, so she was ready to face him with her axe while telling me to run."

"He IS a scary dragon in the sky," Wee Macintosh pointed out. "We all thought he'd attack if given the order."

I stopped my narrative to give him a flat look. Toothless fortunately hadn't heard.

"I want to hear how Toothless scared her," Merida said with a wicked smirk, though she also prevented a gap from appearing in the conversation. "How loudly did she scream?"

"Loudly," I admitted. "But again, Toothless did it on purpose. He didn't throw her off, but only because she clung onto me tightly-" the Scots raised their eyes at me- "okay, that came out wrong, but the point is that Toothless was angry with her for knocking me to the ground and then running off to tell the village when I was leaving anyway. She had heard me say loudly that I was leaving, and she was going to bust us. Maybe Dad would have sent a fleet after us, before we got far from Berk.

"So he shot into the air like a lightning, did a vertical spin, and dove into the water several times. Once she apologized, he changed his flight pattern. Astrid got to enjoy the sunset, the Northern lights, the sensation of soaring through the clouds. Toothless had known she would like that.

This was the embarrassing part. Toothless and I when we had been bonding had rarely spent time mulling my village life; at least, I hadn't. Somehow his sharp eyes and ears had picked up the signs, from Astrid asking why I was acting weirder than usual, to the fact that she had shown up just as I was going away.

"Toothless, he saw that Astrid was curious, maybe too curious the way I was, and she was loyal. She just needed to know who was in charge. After scaring her into apologizing, he became gentle as a lamb.

"Astrid, it wasn't just that she came around and realized what I was protecting. It's that she gave me a reason to stay on Berk. If her mind could be changed- and believe me, Astrid doesn't change her mind easily- then maybe other Vikings' minds could change about dragons. She was also a better Viking than I was, so her belief in me could convince others." I gave a grimace. "Unfortunately, my final exam was the next day, and right as Astrid was asking me how I'd deal with it, Toothless took us to the nest."

If my exam had been in a week, or even the day after; I would have come up with a better plan. Astrid, while restoring my faith in Berk's ability to change, had made me reckless; tame the Monstrous Nightmare in front of the whole village, and things would fall into place. Dad was a great strategist; he'd know how to make peace with dragons AND how to handle the nest once agreeing not to kill Toothless.

"That was not how the way things had turned out," I told the lords' sons. The mead made me bolder, but Loki's advice also rang through my head, balancing it. "You may have heard rumors that I have withheld dragon training from tribes that need it."

The lords' sons looked at each other, but they said nothing.

"It was true before that day in the Kill Ring; I WAS withholding information about dragon training. But it was because I didn't know what I was doing; imagine if you had been told all your life that sea serpents were the enemy, and suddenly you found yourself befriending one, finding ways to calm them down. Would you have told anyone, when the price would have been your new friend's life?"

"Sea serpents aren't real," Wee Dingwall said; Wee MacGuffin apparently agreed.

"Then your worst enemy. Picture your worst enemy sitting right in front of you, and then realize that he's become your best friend, that he's harmless and will protect you. And that if anyone in your village found out, they'd kill him."

They all looked at me; I faltered, realizing that _I_ was their worst enemy. Wee MacGuffin had the grace to look away at one of the king's stuffed bears. He seemed to get it, to think about befriending a bear.

"I would give anything, and I mean anything, to have done it all over." I took deep breaths. "If I had told the other kids what I had learned, watched them do it after I had tested it. If I hadn't been stupid that day in the Kill Ring, trying to show that our worst enemies could be our best friends."

The other two sons looked doubtful.

"My entire village nearly _died_ because I told my dad the right information at the wrong time," I said, self-loathing. "I told him how to find the nest, and he thought he could defeat this great dragon the old-fashioned way. If it hadn't been for Astrid, who gave me the idea to do what I should have done ages ago, the Green Death would have fried my dad."

"Astrid didn't conquer the Green Death. _You_ did," Merida pointed out.

"For a price." I scooped the triplets in my arms; they were heavy for their size and wriggled. Then I brought up my prosthetic onto the bench. Everyone stared at the metal leg before the boys' wriggling made it fall.

"How exactly did you lose it?" Wee Macintosh asked. "Did that giant dragon bite it off?"

That Merida's mouth dropped open told me that this was too blunt, even for her. MacGuffin gave him a punch that knocked him against table; I don't think it was meant to knock him out, but MacGuffin was strong for his size.

"I don't exactly, but it doesn't matter." My look became serious. "This prosthetic reminds me every day that I can't withhold information- not if I want to save people's lives. I don't regret the loss of my leg, but I regret having risked my whole village because I kept what I learned a secret."

"Ha!" Someone said from the crowd. I ignored it.

"Who said that!" Merida stood up, still holding Toothless. My dragon awoke with a protest. She set his head on the wooden bench. "Are you calling him a liar?"

Lord Dingwall shoved himself from the crowd of listeners. He had drunken more than his fair share of mead, given how pink his face had become. The other two lords were attempting to hold him back, but they weren't giving me comforting looks. All of them were ignoring the queen, who couldn't handle the strain of keeping order at such a late hour.

"Lad, you'd have done everyone a favor if you had kept your gob shut," he told me. "Bad enough that Viking scum raid our lands, but do they have to raid us with bloody dragons?"

"Has that happened?" I asked, with genuine concern. He backed off.

"No, but it's a matter of time. We know what your beastie would do if you told him."

Toothless lost his sleepy demeanor. He lifted his head to growl at the Scotsman, who backed away. The triplets, somehow awake, also stood up on my lap with fierce expressions. Lord MacGuffin and Macintosh clutched their spears, but they wouldn't hurt me and risk the boys' delicate bodies in open sight.

"Toothless has a mind of his own," I said. "Even so, he only acts violent if someone or something threatens me. But you don't want to attack me, and I'd be really stupid to attack you."

"And why is that?"

I took a deep breath. "Because you are both decent lords, and decent lords don't attack boys at two in the morning. That's all I am, I'm just a boy who befriended a dragon."

"That's precisely the problem," Lord Dingwall growled. "First time in hundreds of years that the Scots send a diplomat, and we get a boy who can tame beasts and taught our enemies how to do so! Not even a proper man!"

Elinor strode towards us; the men, drunk as they were, parted from her and bowed. Fergus had fallen asleep from the mead.

"Hey," I said, struggling to keep my temper and lie through my teeth. "I may be a boy, but I've fought in a war all my life. I've proven myself as a warrior and as a diplomat. Maybe I was sent here because I managed to show that our dragon enemies weren't dangerous, that we could work with them."

"So you're saying that we Scots are like dragons?" he challenged me. "That we breathe fire and enjoy our fish?"

"You do enjoy your fish, you hairy troll," Lord Macintosh said; he sounded identical to Gobber. He caught Lord Dingwall's wrinkled fist as it aimed for his face. Lord MacGuffin laughed at that. That gave me time to clamp down on my tongue because a thousand sarcastic remarks threatened to burst. Much as I loved my biting wit, it would get me bitten with drunken enemies.

"Toothless taught me that my worst enemy could become my best friend." I met them all and stroked my dragon. "I was able to look into him and see myself, something human. Maybe you can do the same when you look at me."

That shamed them into silence.

The queen reached us. Her expression was stern and sympathetic as they made an effort to look. Lord Dingwall tried, but he blinked quickly and rubbed them.

"If you want to bring your complaints to Hiccup, you can wait till the morning," she told them. "Not when you're all drunk. Time that we all settled down anyway; the maids have warmed your bedpans."

Without pulling any ears, she broke up the party. Everyone disassembled, Merida attempting to revive Wee Macintosh. Wee MacGuffin, looking guilty, found a jar of mead and splashed it over him. He spluttered into wakefulness and shrieked when he found mead in his hair.

"You need to tell us about your battle with the Green Death!" he said. "Clan Council meeting tomorrow morning, before noon. Have your story ready!"

"I will." I nodded. Merida, her brothers and I left them on the bench, heading up to our rooms. The triplets locked eyes with each of the lords and forked fingers between them.

"Don't hurt Hiccup," they all said at the same time. Their childish voices made the threat more serious.

"Impressive how you kept your temper," Merida commented. "Usually exchanging insults means that a brawl happens."

I snorted. "Merida, if you haven't realized, I'm the enemy here. If I struck one of the lords, that would give them an excuse to go berserk over me. Wee Dingwall probably would have done the honors, and then no one could protect Toothless from them."

"That's not true," she said. "Dingwall doesn't think you're a threat. Besides, he'd have me to deal with if he hurt you."

"You better not let that get out," I said, perhaps a bit nastily because I was angry. Not at her, though. "It's bad enough that people here think I would court you. They can't have any evidence to support that claim."

"It's a stupid claim." She sent a glare over her shoulder at a group of guards. "Forget Dingwall. Forget the lot of them. They're all just stupid when they're drunk. If I was going to marry someone now, I wouldn't marry a scrawny Viking like you. You can't even lift a hammer."

"A bit too loudly," I remarked. "Put more righteous fury in it."

"You're such an annoying draugr!" she shouted at me. "Can't go anywhere without causing trouble!"

Toothless and the triplets looked at our faces, but they could see that their sister was faking. We walked up the stairs, to the quieter corridor where our rooms are. Elinor had somehow appeared at my room, waiting.

I rubbed my eyes and realized I was exhausted, with a sore throat from talking. Past midnight. Yet tomorrow would mean dealing with those lords again, and sarcasm would come out if I got pushed hard enough.

"We need to get the other boys on your side," Merida whispered in an undertone. "They like you, but to convince their dads that you can help, you have to show them what it means to ride a dragon. The way you showed us today. The lords are old codgers, so they're not as willing to change unless their sons are."

"Merida!" Elinor had heard despite Merida's whispering. "Show some respect for the lords."

"They don't deserve respect, the way they were badgering Hiccup like it's his fault he got landed with this job-"

She stopped. She had seen the expression on my face.

"I'm sorry, Hiccup. It must be hard for you, being the only Viking with all these lords around-"

"Yeah," I said. "Considering the other Vikings in Scotland are out to get me and ruin my reputation, and the lords don't have faith in me."

"Hiccup, that's enough," Elinor broke through. She bent to kiss his daughter goodnight, and then the boys, bending over to scoop the up. They had fallen behind and yawned with lazy mouths, but they came running when their mother opened their arms. I looked away, but then her cool lips also touched my forehead.

She was kissing my goodnight, like I was one of her sons! Who, as this kiss happened, punched me on the shoulder the way Astrid would. When I looked, they grinned and yawned again. Harris had grown four teeth, Hubert and Hamish two each.

"Hiccup, I know I was harsh on your this afternoon, on all of you, but you can't run off at a time like this," she said sternly. "You realize that you're the first man who kept his temper among the lords, including my husband?"

"I'm not a man," I said awkwardly. "I'm only a boy, as Lord Dingwall said."

"But you behave like a proper grown prince," she said. "Don't tell them, but you were much more proper than they were. I'm proud of you. Sleep well tonight."

She left me to put the boys to bed, sparing Maudie the chore. The boys fell asleep, one by one, with their mouths open. Merida looked at her mother curiously as she went into the nursery.

"I think you surprised her," she said.

"You think?" I tried to cover up my own surprise by rubbing my forehead. "Have I suddenly grown curly red hair and started pulling pranks?"

She shoved me and laughed. Then she yawned.

"I know you surprised her, and in a good way. If she had been angry, you would have known. She thinks you can do it."

Yeah. She and Loki-

Loki! I hadn't even told Merida that the trickster god had already appeared. My mouth fell open as I realized this, as well as the fact that Endeavor's celestial copy was lying on my bed.

"Hiccup, are you all right?"

I closed my mouth. This could wait till the morning.

"I-" I looked back at my room. "Are you going to do archery in the morning?"

"Probably. Why?" She sounded suspicious.

"Just come to the smithy if you want Morgan to make you more arrowheads, or if you want anything repaired. I'll probably clock in some time to get in his good graces, so you won't run out tomorrow."

She understood and her mouth opened as well. Then she smiled.

"We'll see, draugr. First you have to wake up when Morgan tells you to."

"So do you."

Merida went to her bedroom. "Go to sleep, Hiccup. We'll see who can actually get up early."

My room still smelt faintly of dragon nip, but the scent didn't sedate Toothless. If anything, it made him more restless. He seemed tempted to burn a circle into the wooden floor but instead waited as I got ready for bed, eyes on the shadows that filled the room. Endeavor gleamed from above the sheets, untouched.

Frost bit at the windows; so did the threats of the next day. I changed into night clothes, washed my face, and tried not to imagine Alvin hiding in the shadows. Toothless certainly imagined them, the way he growled and paced the four corners, but no one was in the room. There was a reason the Book of Dragons said, "Pray that the Night Fury will not find you."

Then again, Alvin knew how to weaponize dragon nip, and I didn't know if Endeavor would work in actual combat.

Suspicion and fear plagued at my sleeping thoughts, fear of Alvin and the nightmares to come. My throat still throbbed from talking and from drinking mead, though I wasn't drunk. If I were drunk, I probably would have gotten myself killed. The lords were suspicious, but Lord Dingwall was the only one who openly challenged me. He had said that my telling other Vikings to train dragons was a bad idea, even though I had been accused of withholding information before.

Alvin wasn't keeping his stories straight, and that made things confusing. I had to know where I stood with these people.

My eyes shut; Toothless huddled around me, squishing me into the middle of the bed. When he realized that I was squished, he opened his wings over the both of us. It was an awkward sight but a pleasant way to block out the world.

"Thanks, bud."


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six

The nightmares simmered down, oddly enough. It may have been Toothless's wings encasing me like a protective shield, or the near-crash that we had experienced during the day. It may have even been visiting the witch and seeing Loki.

It may have been that reality was becoming more frighful.

Still, the past plagued my dreams. I was back on Alvin's ship, working my arms out of the chains, trying to make sure the Outcasts didn't cut off my dragon's ears. Slaughter and the other Outcast who had tried to strangle me were there too but silent. The memory went by slowly, as if a god had slowed down time, lengthening my struggle. Alvin stopped talking, called for the bone needle to sew my mouth shut.

I woke up. No screams this time, only a startled gasp. Toothless's wing crashed against my forehead. I remembered where I was, settled back down between the four limbs. Somehow I found the courage to close my eyes again.

The dream resumed. I got my arms free just as Thornado fired a shot, and Gobber appeared, cutting Toothless free. I ran to my dragon, we blasted Alvin off the ship. He laughed, and that soured the taste of victory. So did the thoughts that followed.

_No, that's not how it happened. I told Alvin off, and he smacked me for not admitting that he had created me. That's why he was going to sew my mouth shut. I tried to kill him, and he didn't die. He didn't _die_. _

_Gods. _

Eyes open again. The sweating warmth of your best friend as he shielded you. Toothless refused to move his wings, and I dared not wake a sleeping Night Fury. Instead I lay and stared at the darkness of his leathery skin, picturing stars outlining the black scales.

_It's not about training dragons anymore. It's about my defiance. It's about my spirit refusing to break. If I had said yes, Alvin was responsible for me being born, then he wouldn't have taken my escape personally. He wouldn't have gotten so angry. That's why he snapped my sword and trampled the gloves. It was my godforsaken pride that did me in. Gods. _

Another thought interrupted that lament: _It wasn't your fault. You yourself described Alvin as not completely right in the head after the throat-slitting. Honestly, it's not healthy for a grown man to obsess about a Viking teen just because he's defiant. _

_But the other Vikings chiefs got that obsession on Frigga's Promise; they would have enslaved me if not for Jason, just because I trained dragons. _

_Again, Alvin's fault and not yours. He spread those lies about your reputation, and the chiefs went one step further than he did. Besides, Thuggory and the Meatheads got on your side. _

_So what do I do now? He's spreading the lies again, probably because the queen stopped me from leaving in a panic. If the lords raised enough of a fuss, she'd have to send me away. Which means . . ._

I didn't sit up well because the wings didn't cave. But I knew what it meant. The queen would be in danger if I defended myself the way I had last night. Alvin would have a battle dealing with Merida, Fergus and her brothers, but he didn't have anything to lose if he took the queen. He'd be more desperate if he knew that Merida had taken me to see the witch, if some part of him realized he would be mortal.

So a paradox here. If I defended myself against the lies and somehow brokered peace, I'd make Alvin mortal but put Elinor in danger. If I gave up, let him frame me for blowing up the castle armory or getting into a fight with the Scots, I'd become Alvin's slave until my hair turned white and I became truly broken. Perhaps to rub it in, he'd sell me to the chiefs for a tidy profit and let them tear my tongue out, so I'd never talk my way out of being passed from the Hysterics to the Murderous. Dad wouldn't be able to do a thing about it, not with the traditional attitude towards slaves.

These options looked horrible. If I were to play the game that Loki wanted me to play with Alvin, I needed a better strategy. One that didn't involve making terrible choices. I needed to learn more about the rules and how to work with them.

I needed the triplets.

* * *

Toothless only woke when dawn poked its orange head through the windows. Then I freed myself from his wings and washed my face. A clean set of clothes had been set out in the walk-in closet, maybe by Elinor. The tunic was my size, however, and smelled new. So did the trousers. They had been freshly sewn.

I had to thank Elinor when I saw her this morning. Or Maudie. Whichever of the two was the accomplished seamstress.

I changed and assessed my mental state. Three hours of sleep, interrupted twice. I'd need to visit the kitchen for a few cups of tea, maybe a whole pot. Also, sweets. Lots of sweets.

Toothless eyed the sword on my desk. It was still gleaming. After some hesitation, I picked up the sword and placed it in a sheath that was hanging with the clothes. I clipped the sheath to my trousers and headed out. Toothless followed, growling at the shadows that dawn nibbled. He expected Outcasts in every corner, and I couldn't blame him. But we couldn't keep walking in fear, even if we had a reason to be fearful.

Snoring filled the halls; it sounded like the lords' guest chambers were not soundproof. The main bedroom, where Elinor and Fergus slept, also rattled with snores when we passed it. I couldn't help but smile. The king could only drink so much ale and mead. If he was anything like Dad during a feast, he'd probably stay in bed until someone blasted him from the sheets. Dad had Thornado for that, and Fergus had Elinor.

Merida's door was open, and it sounded too quiet. I didn't peer in because I wasn't like Merida, barging in on people when they were trying to get some shut-eye. And if she was up, I wasn't the person to bother her. The Scots did not need a reason to behead me.

The hall didn't recover from the drinking from last night. Ale permeated the air, as did stale vegetables and the smell of cold meat. Toothless sniffed to explore, but we quietly made our way. No need to alert servants or Outcasts pretending to be servants.

I headed into the kitchen, found a pot of cold tea. No one else was in there; from the looks of it, the staff had fallen asleep in the middle of cleaning and walked to their bed in a trance. Dishes were piled to the brim, grimed with meat and grease. The ovens were cold and grey instead of red and fiery.

I poured myself a cup of tea and gulped it down. Thoughts started to come together.

"You're up early."

I choked on my tea. Maudie came in with an empty tray, shaking her head. She put the tray down.

"Each time they visit, I think the hall will collapse on their heads," she said. "Are you all right, Hiccup?"

"Peachy." I coughed, spluttering. She gave a whack, which allowed me to stop coughing. Toothless licked her hands, and she laughed.

"Stop that, Toothless, or I'll have to wash up again!"

He stopped, and she scratched him behind the ears. He perked up and nuzzled her.

"Between you and Merida, he is going to be one pampered Night Fury," I said with a tired smile.

"He deserves it," she said. "The way he protects you, stays by your side-"

"Maudie, don't start that up again." The sleep deprivation made me blunt. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."

"The lords think you did, though." Her eyes became fearful, though not of me. "You know how men are. They hear a lie as light as a bird feather and thinks it weighs as much of the truth. Rumors have been spreading through them."

I shrugged. If only I weren't used to this reception.

"The queen doesn't believe the rumors, though, and neither do I," she said firmly. "Hiccup, you'd never slit a man's throat, would you?"

"Only in self-defense."

She looked shocked.

"The man was trying to strangle me slowly and painfully. I was desperate."

The shock didn't go away from her round face. She clutched Toothless with both hands. I sighed.

"Maybe we should sit down and talk about this?" It seemed that I was the castle storyteller, but I didn't want to lose Maudie's support. Maudie was a sweet woman who didn't deserve the pranks that the triplets played on her.

She nodded and started the fire for the kettle. Toothless sniffed the tea leaves, remembering what had happened last time I had a drink in this kitchen. As the water boiled, she took out day-old bread and some apples from the cupboard, and even found some cold chicken legs and dried salmon for Toothless.

We had a simple breakfast, and I told her. Not new information, just in case the wall's ears were wide open. I just told her how dangerous Alvin was, about the bounty. About the children he had recruited to attack Berk. I didn't mention Frigga's Promise at all.

The more I said, the more shocked Maudie became. She didn't touch her apples and bread, instead played with them as if they were delicate trinkets.

"This man Alvin sounds manipulative and horrible," she said. "He managed to turn all the Viking chiefs outside of your island against you?"

I nodded stiffly against her pity. She poured two cups of tea for us, black. I sipped mine slowly because the tea burned against my lips.

"And he's doing it again, Maudie, here in Scotland. He was the reason the tea was poisoned, why my sword got snapped. He found out how to infiltrate and to set up his men here. It wasn't your fault at all." And telling the truth without context.

"But surely we'd notice if a Viking were tromping around Dunbroch's kitchens. It's not like our most dangerous enemies are hard to miss with their size."

"The queen almost didn't notice when that Outcast attacked me," I said. "She thought he was an angry farmhand before I showed her the bludgeon."

She took a huge bite of bread. It almost choked her, so she washed it down with tea.

"Think about it. The body builds for Vikings and Scots are roughly the same, as are the accents." I indicated with my hands. "As long as an Outcast has the right clothes and the right attitude, he could easily play the part of a farmhand, guard or servant. And they have."

"You need to tell the queen."

"She already knows," I said. Then I wondered if Elinor did know, if she felt the same paranoia that draped over my being. It was bad enough for me, but how would the queen feel, knowing there were spies in her castle and having difficulty identifying them? Maudie saw my doubt.

"Tell her in private, Hiccup. She'll believe you."

"It's not about her believing me. I know she does. But I don't know if she can fight a man."

"You don't think Alvin can be found?"

"How can a grown man walk in and out of a locked infirmary without anyone noticing?" I asked her. "The only reason he didn't take me that time was because the queen forcibly stopped me from leaving. He could easily do the same thing again once my reputation is tarnished here."

"Your reputation won't get tarnished. The queen won't let that happen."

"And neither will I." I took a deep breath. "But the lords and their sons already hate me, so I've got into a kerfuffle as Merida would say. But I can handle it."

She thought and swallowed more bread. We ate in silence, against the hard day that would come when the lords woke up. They had a point about slave-making tribes potentially using dragons to conduct raids, and I didn't have an appropriate response for it.

"I just can't picture you being violent," she finally said. "We know you, Hiccup. You don't look like a boy who could kill a grown man."

"That's what my dad thought." I grimaced.

"If you needed help," she started, and then stopped. "If you need letters mailed, without anyone finding out, I could send them. I know someone who can help. If you want anyone from Berk to come."

"Why?"

"We don't know this Alvin as well as people from Berk would," she said, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. "In him we have a common enemy."

Toothless and I looked at her. Maudie had actually made a sound point. Alvin was the real enemy. He was threatening the queen and myself. That made him common enemy for Scots and Vikings alive.

A plan started to form, a desperate plan. It required trusting Maudie. It also required trusting her reliable mail service.

I was ready to trust.

"I know someone from Berk who will want to come," I said. "But the wording needs to be precise. How soon could the letter reach her?"

"Probably as soon as several days." She placed a hand over mine. "Why precise wording?"

_Because if I said the wrong thing, I might start war instead of stopping it._ That's not what I told Maudie, because she looked nervous enough.

"Because I want to convince them to come."

* * *

Two pots of tea later, I found myself in the smithy, repairing weapons with jittery hands. I counted the amount of credits I had, tried to calculate what I could build with them. Toothless watched with mild boredom, but he sensed that I was acting with deliberation. Morgan wasn't around to growl at me, so I didn't have to repair weapons yet.

If I used all of the credits, I could rebuild the automatic tail for Toothless, the Snoggletog gift that allowed him to fly without me. That required a lot of metal and leather, and it would be useful. It wouldn't protect him from the effect of dragon nip, however.

There hadn't been any sweets to smuggle out of the kitchen, so I needed a new lure for the triplets. For that lure, I needed to use credits for that instead of sinking them all in an automatic tail.

"Sorry bud," I told him, starting to draw out plans. "We're going to have to figure out a new way for you to fly."

He looked at me in question. I shrugged at him and sketched.

Merida came in just as dawn turned into hot morning. She looked flushed from riding as she tossed a bag of arrows at them. Her sharp eyes still caught the sword hanging from my trouser.

"Where did you get that?" She reached and yanked it. "It's your sword! It's fixed!"

I shushed her, sat her in the corner of the smithy and explained about Loki's visit a low tone. Her eyes lit up.

"Hiccup, you know what this means? This sword might be the key to killing Alvin; you just have to stab it into his wicked heart in the heat of battle-"

"It's not that simple, Merida," I explained with exasperation, making gestures for her to keep quiet. "Loki said I had to create peace before Alvin became mortal. I don't think I can stab it into his heart and expect the lords to cheer over his dead body."

"Oh." Merida sat down with a thump. Her excitement deflated.

"Yeah, Loki wasn't all about defeating enemies with just a stroke of violence." I hammered the metal shape. "He's all about cleverness. It's about stealing the hammer back from the Frost Giants, about making prophecies happening by a technicality."

"And he thinks you can do it," she said flatly. "You can't do it alone. You'll need my help to talk to the lords and their sons."

"Not just yours." I finished hammering the tool and gave it to her, along with a folded sheet of paper. "If anything happens to me, give this to your brothers."

"What is it?"

"A really long prosthetic." I demonstrated by inserting it into Toothless's stirrup. "The boys will know what to do with it; they're smart kids."

"And you don't think I will?" she demanded, not knowing what to do with it.

"I'd rather that you used your hands for shooting arrows. You're the best archer in Dunbroch, and that gives Toothless an advantage."

"I don't follow you."

I explained, and her eyes widened.

"Hiccup, if the boys are riding Toothless and I'm shooting arrows, then what will you be doing?"

"Probably being branded as a slave and dragged back to the Archipelago in chains." I shrugged. "I hope it won't come to that."

"Sounds like you've accepted that possibility." She sounded angry. "You can't!"

"It could happen. I'm not invincible, after all. But I trust you."

She tucked the tool into her dress. I hoped it got to the boys.

I started making more tools, including a mask that Toothless could wear to protect him from dragon nip. I had to measure his snout and cut the leather accordingly, sewing it with needle and thread. The rhythm of work drew me in, calming me down as I sketched. The cloth had to allow him to breathe while avoiding the sedative tips.

If I had had several weeks for trial and error, I could have perfected a design. As it were, I had several days at the most. And Alvin couldn't get wind of what I was planning. We did not need any more of my inventions smashed, especially ones that could help Toothless.

She stayed and watched me work. After making the plans, I turned to her arrows and repaired the metal heads. Bored, she started swinging Endeavor to marvel at its lightness. Although I didn't have feelings for her, the way I had feelings for Astrid, I was happy to have her presence. She reminded me that I wasn't alone.

This plan would work. As long as I allowed no impulsiveness, wrote the letters and got them sent duly, nothing would go wrong.

It was going to go wrong.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**LoveLiveLaugh Forever- Thanks! Glad you like its twists. :)**

**Spannerspoon- No, he cannot. And . . . wow. That means a lot to me. **

When the hour approached, Merida stopped carving into her bow. She jerked her head at me and Toothless and got up. The arrows went into a small satchel, and the bow went over her shoulder.

"Hold on," I said. "Need to clean up first."

"Hiccup, it's the one time you leave the smithy in disarray," she answered brusquely.

"Merida, I don't want to irk Morgan," I said, gathering up the tools and putting them away. Sweat gathered on my tunic, and I had to replace it with a spare one. First rule of being a blacksmith, after all. Old habits die hard.

"You don't want to irk the lords' sons," she pointed out. "At least Morgan won't attack you for showing up late."

"Wouldn't put it past him," I muttered, straightening up the tools on the wall. I also checked the credits to make sure that I had calculated them properly.

Toothless shook his head to test for how long the mask would stay. The mask had a thin film of leather around his nostrils and a hinge so that he could open his mouth to breathe fire. With the brown leather, he looked like a dragon bandit. A shame we couldn't test it unless an Outcast attacked us.

"Here." She tossed a cloak at me, the same one I had worn to see the witch.

"What's this for?"

"To hide the sword. If Alvin has spies, he may notice something off if the sword he snapped is in good condition."

Gods. I hadn't thought of that. A good thing that Merida had brought that up or I would have brandished a red flag for an Outcast to attack me. Which they might anyway, but at least there would be one less thing to catch Alvin's eye.

"The boys also need to investigate the lords," I told her as I wrapped the cloak around my shoulders. She fastened it, obviously remembering my struggles with it yesterday. "And every possible secret passageway into the castle. One of the three clans has the automatic bola; they need to find it and sabotage it. Otherwise, Toothless and I are sitting ducks in the air like we were yesterday."

"Of course." She finished clasping the cloak and then arranged the swirling cloth so that it hid the sword at every angle. "I don't know why you didn't lure them with sweets."

"Not as much as she used to." Merida chuckled. "I should tell you about how the boys would constantly escape her with sweet-loaded trays. They can't resist the little cakes that we make here. Want me to keep Toothless's hood as well?"

"Why?"

She stroked the leather. "It's too obvious; if the Outcasts see it, they'll know not to use dragon nip and may attack him outright. It needs to blend in with his skin so that if they use it, he has the element of surprise."

Once again, gods. I wanted to bang my head against the wall. Another thing I hadn't thought of. Maybe Alvin snapping my sword had also snapped my brain in two. Why wasn't I thinking of all these possibilities? Why wasn't I thinking?

"I'll get the boys to steal some paint," Merida said, noting my expression. "The Macintoshes always carry jars of it. May take a few coats, but Hamish claims that he's a star artist."

"Thank you," I said.

"Well it's not like you can defeat a murderous Outcast alone," she said. "Just let me carry the mask till the boys can paint it Night Fury blue. Or black. After all, not like Alvin is going to mount an attack this afternoon?"

"Don't say that," I warned her. "All the lords and their men suffering from hangovers, probably with most of the castle guards. It would be a perfect opportunity for a sneak attack."

She tossed her head. "But I didn't get drunk. We won't let any daft Outcasts attack you. The lords' sons already want to attack plenty."

That was reassuring. But she ended up leaving the mask on my dragon. Toothless left the smithy with his new weapon, his eyes peering at me with concern. I didn't want to call it a "hood" and remind myself of the slaves on Frigga's Promise.

* * *

Frost clouded the grass like an unwanted sheet of ice, icing the green blades. I slipped and slid, Toothless sometimes catching me. The texture was different from the ice on Berk, where the whole ground was slippery. Here the grass had a few occasional patches of damp dirt; if one stepped the wrong way the dirt would give way to frost. It was almost a game, finding these patches and knowing how to set the prosthetic through them.

"Why are we meeting outside?" I asked Merida, who walked effortlessly in her winter boots.

"They want to ride Toothless," she answered shortly. "To see how powerful he is and how much of a Conqueror you are."

"You all came up with this idea?"

"I may have suggested it. But only Macintosh and MacGuffin are game. Wee Dingwall is still suspicious that you may fly off and desert with one of them as a hostage."

"Really genial, isn't he?"

"That's how berserkers are. Always have to be ready to bite and scratch."

The Clan Council, which consisted of Merida and the lords' sons, sat under small thrones under a white tent. The Dunbroch banner billowed above them with the first winds of frost. Wee MacGuffin looked the most animated; Wee Dingwall was falling asleep on his throne and Wee Macintosh was massaging his head. Merida took her own seat and smiled encouragingly.

"Here." Wee Dingwall woke up and reached beside his throne. He tossed, and a satchel hit me on the head. I staggered under the weight and found myself on the frozen ground again. I was getting sick of slipping in the ice.

Endeavor's sheath came unbuckled and also fell. Merida bent and helped me pick up the papers, taking the sword. I reached for it, but she loaded my arms with parchment.

"Best if I keep it," she whispered. "They seem to have noticed your blade."

I let her take it. It wasn't like she coveted a glowing sword.

"Our dads couldn't make it, so they wrote out as many of their complaints as they could for you to read," Macintosh explained with a groan. "Though I don't know why we couldn't also get the day off."

MacGuffin didn't look like he had drunk too much, but he nodded in agreement. He looked so cozy and dry on his throne. They all did.

I grunted and moved the damp parchment into the satchel. Then I hung it off Toothless's saddle, stood up straight and bowed.

"I will go over each complaint with the queen. So, you wanted to hear how I defeated the Green Death?"

They all nodded, especially Merida. I took a deep breath, tried not to think of myself telling endless stories over the past two days, and launched into the narration. The more I talked, the wider the sons' eyes got, and they eyed my dragon as if he were a prize horse/ The stares made me uncomfortable, so I tried to stress how I had trained other kids to ride dragons because it had been an emergency.

_It wasn't just Toothless. It was also your brains, and your dad. If he hadn't pulled you out of the water, you would have drowned with Toothless._

"The biggest thing about that battle was how it changed my dad," I said. "It was a big change because he had just disowned me and wanted to stick to the Viking way. He could have let me drown and no one would have thought less of him. But instead, he saved me and my dragon, said he was proud of me. All because I showed myself capable in battle against an enemy he could not defeat."

All three teens nodded, as if they knew what it was like to seek a father's approval but never quite get it. I found myself smiling with relief that I had reached my audience. The line between child and Conqueror, as Jason and Loki had said.

"Merida mentioned that you wanted a ride on Toothless," I went on. "So as to make things fair since she and her brother claimed it first, which of you wants to take the first plunge?"

Wee Macintosh groaned and sat back on his throne. Hangover had a merciless grip on his forehead. The suspicion returned to Wee Dingwall's face. But Wee MacGuffin jumped from his throne and exclaimed eagerly.

"He will go," Wee Macintosh said; eyes shut tight against the frost that had started to blow.

Toothless almost shied away, crinkling his leather mask, because of the boy's size. He was larger than Thuggory, probably heavier, and seemed to always bounce with energy. Must have been bad memories from when Dad had ridden him for several days as an errand dragon, or when we had tried to cure Thuggory of his fear of heights.

"It's all right, bud." I stroked him climbed on and offered a hand. Wee MacGuffin nearly pulled me off in his eagerness, swinging onto Toothless like a playful boy.

"You better come back down with him!" Wee Dingwall ordered.

"You won't have to worry about that," I said dryly, but bit off the comment. Maybe I couldn't understand Wee MacGuffin, but he could understand me. "Just a short ride, Toothless."

Toothless visibly strained as Wee MacGuffin settled. I stroked him behind the ears, speaking soothingly.

"A short ride. Like what you did for Merida."

"I'll catch more salmon for you, Toothless," Merida called. "Just take him for a short ride."

That seemed to do the trick. Toothless gave a small nod and opened his wings. I clicked into place and let him soar.

As promised, it was a gentle flight. No spinning, no sudden dips, and no shots into the air. Toothless took his time to gain altitude. We skimmed over the nearby treetops, and I noted how the thick branches hid the forest paths. Wee MacGuffin grew quiet, letting the winds freeze his ears. He pressed his large hands together, only bringing them over when soft snowflakes fell from the sky.

"I wish I could understand your dialect," I told him. "Then I'd know how you were feeling."

He responded by wrapping his arms around me in a bear hug and talking loudly and happily in my ear. I found myself gasping for air. The prosthetic came loose, making the tail-fin go haywire. Realizing this, MacGuffin let go and placed his hands behind his back. He looked sheepish and concerned.

"Never mind," I managed to say. "I get the idea."

We landed with a wobble. MacGuffin hopped off, dragging me. He talked rapidly, so that Macintosh had to yell at him to slow down. The large hand came close to Toothless's snout, but I had to coax my dragon to accept the hand.

"He says that it's no wonder that you protected Toothless," Macintosh said. "That we should all learn how to ride dragons so we can enjoy our land properly. And he wants to know if you can teach us."

"Of course I can teach you!" I exclaimed. "That's what I'm best at. The big concern would be getting dragons to Dunbroch, which I'm sure we can do, and then we can start on the training. You'd each have to bond with a dragon, need a saddle and you'd need to learn all about the species-"

My voice caught in my throat. Of course. It was this simple. I had made my name teaching my friends to ride dragons. Why couldn't I rebuild my reputation on that same principle?

"In fact, I want to use the Dragon Academy to bring the Scottish clans and Viking tribes," I told them. "I need to send a few letters, but I think it can be done over the next few days, bringing dragons to Dunbroch and sending Scottish royals to Berk."

"Which tribes?" Dingwall asked. "All of them, including the ones that raid our lands and take children for slaves?"

"Hey!" Merida exclaimed. "Give Hiccup a break; he's trying his best-"

"No, he's got a point," I said. "I can't exactly guarantee peace if trading dragon-training information with your enemy. At the moment, Berk needs medical supplies and housing for the winter, both of which we lost during the summer. If Dunbroch can provide the same supplies, then we can stop training tribes that regularly raid the Scottish lands and accept students."

This was tricky. Dingwall looked suspicious again, and even MacGuffin chewed his lip.

"How about I make the proposition to the queen?" I went on. "Surely she would know how best to negotiate with potential allies, and the amount of dragons that the castle could support. And I can teach you how to train dragons; just need to teach your brothers and sisters as well."

Success. Dingwall's face relaxed. Maybe I was good at talking my way out of tricky situations. If I had done this at Frigga's Promise-

"Prove it," he said. "Let me ride your beast."

* * *

At the end of the morning, Toothless and I were exhausted. Dingwall had been on high alert for the whole ride, and we had worried that he'd go berserk. So Toothless made the ride go on for longer, so that we soared and got a lay of the land. Slowly the small breaths had relaxed and he had stopped gripping my arm. Not for dear life, but to twist it behind my back if he deemed it fit.

When we landed, Dingwall looked me in the eye and only asked one question.

"You're not interested in courting Merida, firstborn to Clan Dunbroch?"

I shook my head.

"Why not?"

"I already have a girlfriend," I said, "and she said she'd kill me with one blow if I looked at another girl."

This wasn't the complete truth but close enough. No need to embarrass Merida or myself with how Astrid wanted to drag me off the minute she had heard about Alvin's attack.

"Must be a pretty lass," he remarked. Merida made a face at him.

"Astrid's also highly competitive," I said.

We walked together to the castle, Toothless noticeably more tired. I didn't blame him, though we had flown through worse. It was the emotional stress, of having to put up a front of befriending all these people that tired us out.

Lunch was a quieter affair than dinner had been. The servants walked around us quietly, the bag-pipers playing a bleak tune that had no lyrics. Elinor was nowhere to be seen, and the few men who showed up were still rubbing their heads. Fergus came down and started gorging himself on a boar. When I asked, he said that the queen had been in her chambers all day writing letters.

"She has to do it at the start of winter, to make sure that we can communicate with every village and clan. The letters are well-worded, but they mainly help test the roads and our mailing system."

That topic was interesting enough, but instinct made my stomach clench. I had a bad feeling swirling around my head, one that wouldn't go away unless I addressed it.

"Do you think she would mind if I asked her for advice on writing letters?" I asked, trying to sound casual. "Just want to write home before the ice sets in on the boats."

"I don't think so. She likes you." Fergus reached over and tousled my head. I smiled and wiped the boar grease with a thick napkin. Merida snickered.

"Maybe I'll go up and see her now," I said. "If she's not busy."

"You'll know if she is, lad. That's when she'll throw you out bodily. Go on." He gestured. "She'll probably welcome a break."

I nodded and headed up. The lords' sons and their men stared at me as I hurried up the stairs, trying not to look panicked. The stairs echoed with our footsteps. Toothless still growled at the shadows.

Merida followed, surprisingly enough. She had her bow and my sword at the ready.

"Mum's good with a bow and arrow, but if you're right about Alvin attacking during hangover season-"

"Let's try to stay calm," I told her. "Might just be my paranoia-"

We then heard the sound in front of us, thanks to Merida's training. I couldn't make out what it was, but it was unusual. We stopped. I unsheathed Endeavor. Toothless snarled and got into a "fire" position. Merida notched an arrow.

The sound happened again. This time I recognized it about five seconds too late.

"Bud, look out!" I shot forward and slashed. Not that it did much; powdered dragon nip flew through the air, aimed at Toothless. I just powdered it more.

He shook it off, however, and tore down after the idiot who threw it, the idiot dressed in servant's clothes. Plasma blasts shot off in the corridor. The dragon nip lay on the floor, waiting for our feet to trample it.

It worked! His mask had worked!

"Let's go!" Merida shouted, giving chase to the assailant. I followed, ignoring the dread that mixed with stomach-clenching instinct. Above us we heard the pattering of six tiny footsteps, as desperate as we were.

Something clattered to the ground. I stopped to pick it up. It was the circlet I had made for Elinor. Someone had broken and twisted the clasps.

"Mum!" Merida called ahead of me. "Mum!"

I stopped running, unable to go on. Dread and guilt coursed through me.


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight

** Forever Me- Believe me, I WILL continue**

Chaos met us. We saw men shouting, running towards us with brandished weapons. Toothless fired more, hitting them. They retaliated with dragon nip but realized their mistake thirty seconds too late. My dragon charged with a protective fury; I charged beside him, Endeavor slashing at bare shoulders. We were like a living battering ram.

Several blades retaliated, some on the large and curvy side; they made whistling sounds that twisted in the air. I deflected each one before jumping back. Toothless's tail swung at the assailants, who got knocked over. My sword practically danced, and I could not say if it were my natural ability or another favor from Loki.

All the soldiers were dressed in Dingwall colors, and they had Scottish swords. So Alvin had learned from his mistake about proper weapons; if the men succeeded, then Clan Dingwall would be blamed. But their fighting style was less graceful, and they used the weapons as if they were thick Viking swords and not the delicate blades that Merida and her father used. That gave us the advantage. So did the fact that the Dingwall clan didn't wear armor, only long plaid kilts and token leather; more vulnerable parts to pierce.

Merida from behind fired arrows; she had a dozen in her quiver. From above the boys dropped odd hammers and hard objects on our enemy's heads, so that they staggered against cabinets and weapons hanging on the walls. Toothless covered me, and I covered him with my blade. We couldn't have ridden well indoors anyway.

Several Outcasts recovered. Three bulky soldiers approached us from one side; two approached us from behind. We circled to keep our eyes on all of them, Toothless firing. Merida fired arrows that pierced their skin in the shoulders and stomach. And more were ahead of us, roughly a dozen. We could clear a path, but we couldn't overwhelm them. Flying was out of the question because there wasn't enough space for a takeoff or proper flight, and we didn't know where Elinor was.

"Merida, we need a change of plans," I hissed. "More Outcasts and limited corridor space."

"Cowards!" she cried at them, firing without hesitation. "You don't deserve to wear those Scottish colors!"

"Keep your eye on your quiver," I muttered. "It's nearly empty."

So much for a change of plans. We were approaching the tapestry room, where it looked like the door had suffered intense beatings from both sides. We heard men yelling, but not the queen. Thank the gods. We went forward because we had to. Merida's face was red, even as she yelled at the disguised warriors.

Six more Outcasts surrounded the queen, swords and crossbows at the ready. Elinor stood in the center, her eyes blazing with fury. Her hair was a curtain of disarray, and there were a few scratches on her face. Her dress was torn along the sleeves, but she was calmly brandishing the knife that she used to open letters. The knife was bloody, and her grip was firm. The Outcasts were afraid to get closer. It was the look in her eye, as well as the bow slung across her back. That's when I noticed how many Outcasts sported deeper cuts and arrows sticking out of their faces, even some clutching their eyes.

"Mum!" Merida called, shooting arrows in rapid succession. They hit their mark; several Outcasts yelled and clutched at the barbs in their shoulders. One fell over from a sharp blow to the heart. Then she reached back and found that she had run out.

"I'm all right," Elinor snarled. When an Outcast reached for her, a ceramic vase fell from the ceiling onto his head. She ran the knife through his stomach as he fell.

"You have a choice here, Dragon Conqueror," another one spoke, standing a cautious distance from the queen. "Either fight and watch the queen and her family die, or surrender and let them live. For now."

"You do realize that there are four clan leaders downstairs, all who will kill you if you lay a hand on her, or the princess." I pointed out. _Also that once I surrender, you have no reason to keep Merida or Elinor alive._

The Outcasts behind us filled the gap between us and the corridor. They had taken up crossbows now and shed the lighter swords. A few even sported bolas, the best weapon for capturing a dragon alive. All their arrows were pointed at us. Toothless coiled around me and Merida in a protective stance. Even if he fired at two warriors, however, four more would take their place.

I tried not to slap myself on the forehead. The guards we had encountered earlier had been a weak front, allowing us to come through. Now we couldn't go back, since that many arrows would bring down Toothless quickly. We had walked into a trap. Even if the lords heard the ruckus and charged, they'd risk hurting Elinor and Merida if engaging in a tussle. That and most of them were suffering from hangover headaches.

Our only hope was that the Outcasts couldn't possibly escape the castle without arousing detection and alarm. But given that Alvin had entered and exited an infirmary without detection, I had no hope.

Merida had realized the same thing that I had, as had Toothless. He fixed his steely eyes on me. If I were to move forward and hand over Endeavor's copy- which seemed to be the most logical course of action to save everyone else- his black bulk would block me. I tried to climb over, and he spread his wings.

"Hiccup, I order you not to surrender," Elinor said in a calm voice. She remained regal even as her hands shook from wielding a small blade. The ends of her torn sleeves were stained with blood. Not hers, fortunately.

"I'm not exactly in a position to do so, Your Majesty," I said in what I hoped was my driest tone. Toothless growled and refused to budge.

"Honestly, your Alvin is daft," Merida growled. She looked to the ceiling and made a gesture with her bow. "All this effort to nab one draugr of a Viking on Scottish territory."

That was the wrong thing to say. One of the Outcasts responded by aiming his crossbow at her heart. Toothless didn't move, although he looked at her with concern and blocked their aim with his wings. She stood her ground and glared at the Viking weapon.

"How do I know you'll leave once you're done with me?" I asked. "And how exactly are you planning to leave and evade detection? Not like those kilts cover your butts well."

Merida didn't giggle, but she gave a tight smile. Elinor grimaced in amusement. That didn't make the situation less dire. We were at a stalemate, unless we had a miracle. Or three trouble-makers.

"Any time now, boys," I whispered.

The miracle ended up not coming from the ceiling. It came from the floor. A head of red hair popped up with a large, heavy hammer. He banged it on one Outcast foot that happened to be next to Elinor's. He then moved on the all the feet in proximity. Yells filled the air, and Elinor took the opportunity to break out of the circle. She ran towards us, holding the letter opener like it was a lance. The Outcasts raised their weapons to strike her down, but Toothless fired around her to knock them away.

A horn sounded in the distance, a warning bugle. We heard the king shouting, rallying his remaining soldiers.

"Good job, Hubert," Merida muttered. "Going back to alert Dad."

"How do you know which triplet alerted him?" I asked in a whisper.

"Harris and Hamish prefer handling weapons. Hubert can run faster than the two of them."

The tense stalemate snapped like a frozen tree branch. A laden quiver fell from the ceiling into Merida's hands, and she slung it over her back. We were still surrounded, but we had a dragon, two protective princes and two star archers. And myself, of course, though I felt more like a liability. Even the best fencer wasn't that much against an entire army, and I sucked at archery.

That's when I noticed the blank wall in the tapestry room was no longer a wall. It opened up to a tunnel, one stuffed to the brim with more Outcasts. That explained how they kept replenishing their numbers. Maybe it could also explain one other thing.

"Elinor, are secret passages common knowledge in the castle?" I asked in a low voice.

She came beside me. Her knife dripped blood, and her eyes remained steely. Merida handed her several arrows, and they both fired. Elinor's barbs went through men's eyes, cold and merciless.

"Not that common. Only a few servants know them, and myself. We Scots used to be at war with each other all the time, until the clans came together to fight off a Viking invasion."

"Was there a bunker in the infirmary, or a passage?"

"There was, to hide patients in case of invasion; we blocked it up when Alvin attacked you. The boys helped. We've tried to keep eyes on the other passages, but the guards must have been asleep today."

"Or poisoned with nightshade," Merida muttered. "When we told them to watch what they drank."

_And you didn't think to tell me about the blocked passage? When I was locked up and worried each night that I'd be carried away screaming? _

This wasn't the time to shout at the queen, but she saw the hurt and anger on my face and knew that she had made a mistake. She didn't have time to explain or apologize, however, not in the middle of battle. She had to be the queen before she could be a comforter, like my dad had to be the chief before he could be a father. Merida saw, however, and her expression became sympathetic as she fired.

"You weren't exactly in the best state of mind, Hiccup, and no one wanted to admit a Scot had turned traitor and made Dunbroch vulnerable. Even Mum doesn't know all the secret passages into and out of the castle, and she was trying to keep everyone from falling into a panic."

I gave her a look. _It might have restored my sanity if I had known exactly how a man had gotten in and out of a room unseen. _

"Look, we bungled up, we admit it. But we didn't know Alvin was capable of this. You might have told us instead of blathering about how determined he was."

"You got me there," I said with a trace of annoyance. "How about I tell you now so that you can tell the lords?"

We came closer together. I whispered quick facts to Merida, from what I remembered about the Outcast ship and Alvin's recruiting members, to search the local villages. She nodded at each one, committed it to memory. I told her the words that would make my dad and the Dragon Academy students come, to bring reinforcements against a common enemy.

I gave her permission to tell the lords about Frigga's Promise, and about my Scottish heritage. That's how desperate I was, knowing there was no time to write letters or to bargain with the lords.

More heavy objects fell from the ceiling, more shoes became tripped up. Elinor signaled for us to retreat. Merida squeezed her hand tightly. Toothless stayed in front of us as a shield. The Outcasts yelled when purple flame mixed with arrows and seared their shoulders. They fired in return, and Toothless torched each arrow. The same happened with each bola that came our way.

Thoughts kept whirring as we retreated. A man with a gifted tongue could easily charm knowledge about secret passages from servants, or intimidate them with an army. He had intimidated several villages into attacking Berk; perhaps he had done the same thing here. Alvin had bid his time, taking several weeks to figure out how to walk inside and out, planning an escape route in case something like this happened. He had found himself forced to make good on his threat, and he had crafted the perfect trap.

"Elinor! Merida!" Fergus cried from below. We heard the lords shouting as well. Several of the Outcasts swore, but they stood their ground. Merida brought more down.

"Hiccup, tell your dragon to fire," Elinor said in a calm voice, using up her last three arrows. The boys dropped her several more. She caught them and fitted one into her string.

"He's been firing," I said.

"Increase the intensity. We need a few moments to leap." She narrowed her eyes and focused on her target. Another Outcast got shot through the eye. It's amazing how much damage we caused, and they still kept coming.

I knew what she was asking. Toothless knew as well. He didn't hesitate. He reared back. Then he turned suddenly and fired at the Outcasts who blocked our exit route. The blasts were a sequence of intense purple shots, ones that I had only seen during our battle with the Green Death. They were meant to kill, not merely to incapacitate. Toothless had refrained from using them after the battle, but Elinor had known what he was capable of. She learned more when he launched more lethal blasts at the Outcasts in front of us.

Burning flesh and scorched dragon nip littered the ground. I couldn't stop to retch at the stink, however; only time to hop onto my dragon, pull Elinor on, and wait for Merida to swing her legs over. Elinor's shoulder bumped against my back, but she straightened herself. Toothless spread his wings, taking off for a leap. There wasn't room to fly, but if we could just make it to the stairs-

A bola broke through Toothless's guard. The Outcasts behind us had recovered, had flung their stones and ropes. Toothless couldn't twist in time to fire at them. The jagged, flattened rocks caught him on all four legs, so that he collapsed to the ground, jostling the three of us. The remaining Outcasts, bloody and battered, charged.

Toothless's mask had come undone; dragon nip would knock him out. We had lost our best defense, and perhaps I had realized that Alvin only wanted me. If he didn't have my dragon or Elinor, he didn't have a hold on me.

I swung off the saddle and skirted in front of Toothless. The ropes tightened around his legs; I attempted to slash them and retie his mask at the same time. Endeavor was too light for the cutting job, but I had to try. Oh, how I wanted my dragon-teeth gloves!

As I raised Endeavor, Toothless screeched in warning. I dodged to the side as an Outcast swung forward with his sword. A smaller bola wrapped around my legs, and three Outcasts tackled me to the ground as if I were the hammer in Mjollnir in the Middle. I clung to Endeavor but couldn't use it, what with four hands clamped to my sword arm. The bola's rocks weighed me to the ground.

"Hiccup!" Merida and Elinor shouted. My dragon growled and fired, still bound on four legs. He couldn't risk hitting me, however.

"Get yourselves to safety!" I shouted in return, a fist pressed against my stomach. "Get Toothless free and tell my father! He'll know-"

A coarse cloth was stuffed into my mouth, and for a few moments I thought I was back on Frigga's Promise, back with the hooded slaves who had pinned me to the ground. The smell of hot iron returned to my nose, even though there wasn't a brand in sight.

_Not again. Not again!_

Rational thought went out the window. Cruel laughter echoed in my ears as I screamed my protests. The cloth muffled the sound so that the screams came out as mewls. I flailed, felt Endeavor wrested from my hands, and choked on the dry cloth. Rational thought tried to intercede.

_Not Frigga's Promise. Just a worse situation. _

They tied another leather band around my cheeks so that I couldn't spit out the cloth. I attempted to struggle, but I may as well have been a tiny haddock in a fishing net. They didn't even bother to strengthen their hold as they pulled me to my feet and bound my hands in front of me. Then, to complete a neat boar-tie, they connect the bonds between my hands and legs.

Elinor watched, her calm demeanor broken. The hand holding the knife went slack. Her whole face looked broken, and I could tell what she was thinking. She had promised my father I'd be safe here, that she would protect me, and yet his worst enemy had stormed her castle and taken me. Afterward, she'd have to straighten out matters with Clan Dingwall before mounting a rescue. If the Outcasts left any Scot alive.

She was like my father; perhaps they had inherited that sense of responsibility from Hamish II. What I would learn to inherit if I survived this mess.

Fergus and his men broke into the corridor, armed with axes and swords. The lords looked shocked, Lord Dingwall most of all. I didn't blame him; it looked like his men had attacked the queen and the scrawny Viking diplomat. If I hadn't been gagged, I would have reassured him that I knew who the real enemies were. As it were, I caught sight of Fergus's terrified face and Lord Dingwall's confused expression before a sack went over me. Gods, what was it with Outcasts and sacks? Couldn't they use chains like normal Vikings?

A brute slung me over his shoulder and walked off, leaving the sounds of cold steel meeting flesh in the corridor.

A strange, calming thought battled my panic as the light faded and the Outcast's shoulder curved into my stomach. _Alvin only wants me, but he has attacked the queen. He has attacked the Scots. I've told the royals about him as best as I could, so he's now their enemy. And mine. Something we have in common._

_Yeah, but they still got their butts kicked when facing Outcasts. They need help._

_Toothless is free. Merida has the tools that I gave her._

_Yes, Toothless is free. But you're not. _


	30. Chapter Twenty-Nine

**Spannerspoon- No, I actually wish I could wrap him in bubblewrap and keep him on an island where he'll never age or suffer. But I enjoy watching him slowly regrow into a badass, after suffering a hard fall.**

**Stratoc- Glad that you find it "intriguing." :D And yes, I found the axe fight in book five interesting, how it was a part of Viking life. And Hiccup's learning it in Scotland.**

Last time Alvin's men had captured me, they had knocked me out "slowly and painfully" and had only woken me up after setting sail for Outcast Island. I had only remembered waking up bound next to the keel and screaming at Alvin to not cut off Toothless's ears. Before that, just a slow strangulation into darkness.

They didn't offer me that luxury this time. I remained conscious the whole time, heard the terrifying sounds of boots crunching into bones, fiery arrows shot the walls, the threatening orders. And I couldn't do a thing about it.

The triplets did their best to slow up the Outcasts. More heavy objects crashed in the darkness, causing the men to swear, and a thick liquid sloshed onto the ground. Based on the fumes that seeped through the sack, the boys had opened some of the king's best wine barrels and rolled them into the passage, leaking gallons that slipped up the men. Not the one holding me, unfortunately; his feet seemed to not touch the ground. Each leaping footstep caused my body to bounce against Scottish leather and burlap.

"Seems the brats are everywhere."

"Bring them down! They'll make good hostages!"

_No!_ I wanted to shout. A protesting grunt came when I tried. The Outcasts took no notice. They started to fire, based on the twangs and crashes. But while I heard arrows crunch into rock, I didn't hear the grunts of the boys as they fell. Nor did I hear the sound of heavy vases falling. By the time a blast of winter air had replaced the stuffy tunnel breath, the crashes had faded entirely.

"Never mind! We got what we came for!"

"If they dare follow, we'll be ready!"

Breath caught in my clogged throat. _Boys, don't follow. PLEASE don't follow. Don't let them catch you. Stay in the castle._

The journey by sack was painful, even if the burlap only came down to my knees. The sack pinned my bound limbs so that I couldn't attempt to wriggle free, and the stones cut into my legs. The alcohol fumes and lack of air made my head spin. Even if I could have, a meaty hand pressed into the center of my back as my captor sprinted. I couldn't move to adjust myself, apart from turning my head so that I lay on my cheek. That was the only way I could breathe.

The unceremonious boar-tie made my torso press into my bound hands. Most boar-ties were performed on actual boars, meaning that all four legs got trussed in the front. When this carried on to humans, however, it made for an uncomfortable bondage. Despite myself I protested against the jostling, pain startling my reflexes.

Boots pounded into slippery frost instead of wet stone. I prayed that my captor would slip and drop me, but he didn't. Even if he had, the most I could do was wriggle through the cold grass and pray to come across a sharp object for cutting. In most stories the hero found a broken blade or a stray nail and freed themselves in the nick of time; I had done it myself with dragon teeth gloves.

Still, they couldn't go far into the woods. The frost would mark their tracks, and they had just angered four Scottish clans and threatened the queen. If the boys got the spare prosthetic, Toothless would be able to track us-

A heavy thud; I yelped as I was tossed onto hard wood and straw, landing hard on my shoulder. Wheels squeaked. It seems they had prepared a wagon meant precisely for this purpose. There was a sweeping sound from behind, as if one of them had grabbed a stray branch and brushed away the tracks, including his.

_Oh come on_, I groaned, rolling so that my bruised shoulder wasn't touching the wood. _Why did Alvin have to think of everything?_

The darkness grew from inside the sack, as the trees blocked the sunlight. It hadn't seemed so frightening when Merida and I had raced. But then, that time I had been flying a Night Fury who could travel anywhere as long as he had someone manipulating the tail fin.

Finally, the wheels stopped. An Outcast pulled the sack off, and the cold air slapped me in the face. I gasped as best as I could, taking in the surroundings. Flakes of snow falling against a darkening sky. A small camp, with a fire no bigger than my father's fist.

All of the trees looked the same, and I couldn't tell which direction was north or south. The sun had sunk from sight, so no using that for directions. Even if I got free, I'd be stumbling lost and would probably freeze in the night. Cloaks could only hold so much warmth.

Still, freezing to death sounded better than being imprisoned by a psychopathic Viking.

"This way," a harsh voice ordered. I glared at its owner as he dragged me off the wagon, thumped me against his shoulder again.

_I obviously don't have a choice but to go with you, given the tight grip on my wrists and these tighter bonds-_

He interrupted my silent insults by tossing me to the ground. Again. It even hit the same injured shoulder. My glare intensified against the cold.

_What is with the tossing? Do you really need to rub it in?_

A shadow loomed over me, and a sword nudged the curls off my forehead. A large sword whose tip had once pressed against my throat for a long period of time.

_Apparently you do._

Fear battled pain and anger. I struggled to calm down with deep breaths. None of those emotions would help; I needed my wits.

I twisted my head to look up. Alvin's beard was long as ever, and he wore his usual armor, as well as fur to protect him from the cold. His men still wore the Dingwall clothes, but he hadn't bothered. His right hand held his usual sword; the other held Endeavor's copy.

I attempted to sit up straight, flopped back down. Cold frost soaked through the cloak and trousers, and through the ropes. This was deliberate, obviously, a ploy to show who was in power. Also to heighten that image that he could walk through rooms without anyone noticing.

The calmness in his eyes frightened me. Two black dots, emotionless, amid all that skin. He had cool intellect on his side, along with brute force and an army. At least when he got angry, he didn't think as much.

"I told you I could carry you off," he said by way of greeting. The sword tip explored where the brown hair curled against my forehead.

Another Outcast bent, cut through the leather band and pulled out the cloth. He then dropped them on the ground as if they were distasteful things. Which they were.

I coughed, not trusting myself to speak. My mouth and throat were dry, and I was not licking the snow for moisture. I wasn't going to sink that low. At least, not in the center of hostile Outcasts.

Alvin held out Endeavor, dropped his other sword. Not that I could reach for it, but he may as well have been holding a cup of water just a few feet away. I had never wished more for a pointy object between my bound heads.

"I remember snapping this." He took the blade's tip in the other hand, started to bend it. The tip slipped from his grasp, leaving a red line on his thumb. "Doesn't even seem . . . earthly."

Gods. My eyes must have given something away, because he put down Endeavor, once again out of reach, and returned his sword to my forehead.

"You talked to the trickster god, didn't you? That day, yesterday, when you rode with the princess? Don't lie; I can see it in your face. How did you find him?"

I swallowed, coughed more. If I was going to have trouble speaking, I was not going to tell him the truth. Or at least, not all of it.

There was a small swish; the sword went under my ear, rising slowly. Emotion returned to Alvin's voice.

"Why did he give you the sword back? What did he tell you?"

_Lie, Hiccup. Lie through your teeth. _

"He said only a stupid man would have tried to kill you," I choked, unable to hide my fear. "He laughed when I said I was the stupid man."

_Okay. That was the truth. But that works._

"And the sword?"

I locked eyes with him, which wasn't easy while prone in the snow. "A compensation prize. He wouldn't help kill one of his men."

The sword's tip pierced my left ear. I winced, repeated myself, and forced myself to sob. This wasn't hard to do because I was scared, not of the blade but of him, not knowing what he would do next. My pride broke, which was what he wanted, what he had wanted all this time.

"How did you contact the trickster god? Why here and not Berk?"

I was not going to betray the witch. She had been kind and offered me tea. So I lied despite the sword cutting through my earlobe.

"Built an altar," I said through gritted teeth. "In the smithy."

"When?"

"When you weren't watching. Thought you wouldn't notice." The despair in my voice was convincing, and part of it was truth.

The sword stopped cutting. Alvin beheld me.

"You're telling the truth. A shame it won't do you any good." He removed the blade from my ear. Before I could collapse in relief, the tip made a cut in my cheek. Not a deep one, but it curved and sent a chill through my spine. Blood bounced onto the snow. The men watched impassively.

"Get the device ready," he told them.

"Where do you keep finding idiots to take your orders?" I whispered harshly. It was supposed to be dry but came out frightened. He gave a terrible smile.

"You'd be surprised what would motivate a man. The thought of sheep, for instance. A valued treasure." He gestured. "A family's safety. Your family's safety."

I sucked in breath. My suspicions were right; he was doing it again. Intimidating villages, this time Scottish ones, to get what he wanted. Using his gifted tongue probably to spread more vile words, making villagers question their loyalties.

"A shame your father's not here," he went on. "Or your girlfriend. She was just so stupid as to fly back to Berk knowing I was here. So believing in your ability to stay alive and free."

"I told her to go," I said, and started coughing. Despite my cloak, the night chill settled in with the soaking frost.

Alvin gestured to one of his men. One Outcast bent down, pulled me so that I sat upright, and took out a wooden up. He poured a lukewarm liquid down my throat. Freshly melted snow from cooking over the small fire. I tried to spit it out, thirsty as I was, but he pressed a hand against my mouth and forced my chin back. The liquid burned as it went down my throat.

The good news was that I stopped coughing. The bad news was that I had no idea if they had drugged the water or not. I had no idea if they had decided to add a dose of nightshade.

Alvin stood back. He leaned on his sword as the Outcast pulling me to a sitting position.

"What made you think you stood a chance?" he asked. "That I would let you entertain even the slightest chance of evasion?"

"Why couldn't you have traded for the information on dragons?" I shot back, feeling my head spin. "Was it so hard to ask help from the Bog Burglars or Hysterics? Did you really have to put in all this effort to come to Scotland?"

I touched a nerve. Alvin clenched his fists.

"Norbert discovered what I should have realized ages ago," he said. "That you're not infallible. That your words are your greatest gift."

I realized what was going to happen. Fear rippled over my face, and then anger.

"Why don't you take these ropes off me and I'll show you what I can do without speaking?" I threatened. "A fair fight, swords only. Or are you too co-"

He knelt down and punched me in the stomach. Air escaped with a painful gasp. I would have collapsed if not for the terrible grip on my shoulders. Rough hands forced the handkerchief back into my mouth. The leather band went over my cut cheek, making it sting.

"I'm not cowardly," he said calmly. "I'm practical. Even if you lost, it would only be a tedious duel because you're desperate. You're only trying to buy time for someone to rescue you. Maybe your dragon or the Scots."

_Hey, it worked the first time. Can you blame a guy for trying? _

His fist went against my stinging cheek. "You can only outsmart a Treacherous so many times. No dragons to rescue you, no father coming with his army, not even a whinging Scot. No one's coming in time."

_You're forgetting the princess. And her brothers. And Toothless, if the boys can figure out how to work the prosthetic. They may not come in time, but they'll come._

I couldn't speak, but the thoughts went across my face. Alvin stood up, made a gesture. The Outcast holding me upright pulled me to my feet. A large knife cut through the ropes binding my legs together. The stones fell, leaving scrapes on my calves. Pain shot through each leg as I teetered on them.

"Show him what he's given us," Alvin commanded. He picked up Endeavor as well and tucked it into his belt.

Squeaking wheels, armed with chains to protect it from the frost. I watched with horror. My automatic bola, designed with black wood and cruel metal gears. The aiming device was large, armed with thick ropes and stones.

"You think we only made one of these contraptions?" Alvin grinned at me. "Amazing how a few stupid Scots were willing to trade a good amount of clothing for defense against dragon raiders. It only took a few hard bargains. All thanks to you, boy."

So that was how Clan Dingwall had gotten the automatic bola and how the Outcasts had gotten Dingwall kilts. Alvin probably hadn't needed to threaten, just play on Lord Dingwall's fears about raiders, threats based on truth.

If I got out of this alive, I was going to tell the Scots everything. About Alvin, about Frigga's Promise. They didn't deserve to become pawns in an Outcast's scheme.

"A shame if we have to use this," Alvin remarked. "Highly doubt anyone riding your dragon could survive a fall from such great heights. Especially a beginner rider."

Gods. He _wouldn't_. Not to Merida and the boys.

"That's how you captured him the first time, didn't you?" he nodded as I tried to protest. "Brought the great Night Fury down, yet somehow he survived the crash. I heard how your father didn't believe you. If he had, every tribe would have had this device. You would have been renowned for your ruthless inventions. Fate has an odd way of doing things."

The men dragged me away from the device. They wheeled the bola at a safe distance. I heard myself begging to Alvin not to hurt my dragon, begging Merida and Toothless to not show up. Bad enough that Berk had burned to the ground and they had threatened Elinor; I didn't need more dragons and humans on my conscience.

That's when I realized how powerless I was, bound and unable to speak, getting dragged towards some remote dock where a slave ship waited. I couldn't even make a mad dash to the automatic bola and sabotage its calibrations with the rough grip on my shoulders. Even without the grip, it was hard to run with bound hands, and the Outcast soldiers remained at the ready. I wouldn't make it two paces.

Despite this horrible epiphany, I kept trying to fight, kept clinging onto the thought, "It isn't a fair fight." I even sent a small prayer to the darkness between the trees.

_Loki, you're probably watching this. In fact, you are watching this while eating a bag of nuts. I did my best to bring peace and go by our deal but got unceremoniously kidnapped. Alvin himself said this wasn't a fair fight, which was the reason why I came to you for help. This is out of my hands; I need something to even the odds. After all, it's not much fun if the other side can't fight back._

_Son of Odin, help. I can't do this alone. _

I wasn't actually expecting anything, what with Loki having given Alvin immortality, but I had run out of options. As Alvin had said, I was desperate. After all, only a desperate man or boy would pray to the trickster god. Loki would help, for a price. He would retrieve Thor's Hammer from Frost Giants as easily as he would shoot a young god with fatal mistletoe.

The night darkened; the men lit torches and snuffed out the campfire. Alvin watched as the men dragged me away while brushing their tracks. Vikings unfortunately blended in with the woods too well.

Blue lights lit the forest. The men stopped. Small blue sphere hovered in the air, waiting.

"Wisps!" one muttered.

"So beautiful!"

"Let me catch them."

"Ignore them!" Alvin ordered. "They lead men into swamps and bogs."

The men didn't listen. They forget their orders and tried to catch the wisps. The blue lights entranced them, as a shiny light would fascinate a dragon. Even the man holding me dropped his arms, trying to get a closer look.

I estimated the distance from here to the darkest gap between the trees. Had to run away from the wisps, and from the possibility of torchlight. No chance to grab Endeavor with my hands tied, but I could perhaps find a broken blade or a sharp object. Just needed to wait for the right moment.

The wind appeared to be chuckling. I could have sworn I heard the following:

_"Just this once, Hiccup, to even the odds. After this, you're on your own." _


	31. Chapter Thirty

The wisps grew larger, started to bob and weave as the Outcasts reached for them. I sensed that something big was about to happen. My knees bent, and I held my bound hands at the ready.

I had two options: run for the woods or sabotage the automatic bola. The latter wouldn't be too difficult to do; the machine was so delicate that even a slight touch could throw off its aim. One of the reasons neither Gobber nor Dad had believed the bola would amount to anything.

Time was the bigger concern; I wanted to put plenty of distance between myself and the Outcasts, even if I didn't know which direction to go. I preferred freezing to death and becoming a forest icicle to getting recaptured. But if they hurt Toothless again? Or Merida? Or even other dragon-riding Vikings?

I couldn't live with that.

Before Alvin could turn, I slipped from my captor's loose grip and sprinted for the machine. Clenching my bound hands into fists, I brought them down on the bola. Immediately the wooden panels popped open.

"Get away from there!" Alvin shouted. "Grab him!"

The wisps went berserk. They grew to blinding size and dive-bombed each Outcast. Even Alvin got an eye-full. There were shrieks, and I turned my eyes to the machine.

Someone had upped the design: instead of one trigger, there were three, each armed with a large bola. I reached for the first trigger, tried to aim it, and found that it was much harder. With my hands tied together, I could only hold onto one side of the bola, and it wobbled.

_Then untie your hands. Find a pointy object._

Alvin wiped his eyes. He had realized what I was trying to do, and a few blinding wisps wouldn't stop him. He barked orders at his men, who rushed to comply despite their blindness.

_Find a pointy object, find a pointy object_, I thought frantically, reaching into the machine. They had added a small compartment for rocks and ropes, but no knives. Not even the smallest blade for cutting ropes.

The best I could do was locate a flat, sharp rock, wedge it between the wooden panels, and rub it against the bonds. Not easy, with the ropes twisting and burning against my hands. But the wisps kept blinding the men, and I could hear the threads snapping.

Four snaps later, my hands were free and stinging like Helheim. Blood ran down my sleeves. I grabbed the bola with two hands, aimed it at Alvin as he turned and attempted to charge. Just one press and the bola went around him. He gave a surprised squawk and went down.

_Yeah. Vikings are roughly the same size as wild dragons. Never thought of that, did you_?

The other Outcasts would have helped, but a wisp attacked each one, blowing up into light and disappearing. In that time, I fired the remaining bolas, incapacitating about two Outcasts. Whoever The bad thing? The machine was still intact. Its designers had made the wood more durable. Why would they do that to me?

Then I saw the Hysteric crest on the side of the bola: a boar and a strange brown vegetable that they claimed to have brought from a distant land.

_Oh. That's why. The Hysterics are known for their inventions. Probably saw this as a creative challenge. _

Wings fluttered from above. Breath caught in my throat.

_Toothless. Merida. The boys. They don't know!_

A muffled warning came from my mouth. The wings kept coming.

_You're still gagged, stupid. They can't understand you._

I pulled the leather band down and the cloth out, tried to warn whoever was flying. Still not much of a sound, but at least I could communicate.

Alvin was shouting orders, even as he was tied down. The wisps kept attacking the Outcasts. I kicked the machine with my prosthetic; the design remained light, fortunately, so I could move it. Another kick and it rolled off into the shadows. I followed it, pushing the machine to the ground. It didn't completely smash, but its left side got damaged, with the impact of the rocks from within. They would need to repair the wheels to make it work. Best I could do in my situation.

The large wisps illuminated the narrowest gaps between the trees. I dropped the cloth gag and band, grabbed a stray rock from the automatic bola's compartment, and started to sprint. The wisps grew larger behind me and exploded.

"After him! Or you all lose your heads!" Alvin shouted from behind.

Wings kept fluttering from above. There was the sound of attack, of the men yelling. Someone shouted, "Run, Hiccup!"

It was cowardly, but I kept running. The automatic bola would need a few hours of repair, and _I_ wasn't going to fix the machine. As long as the bola couldn't fire, whoever had shouted for me to run was safe.

I have never been more grateful for Merida's training me to hear weapon sounds blindfolded. The sky had darkened to the point that only shards of moonlight slipped between the ominous branches. It came in useful for following the sound of the wings, my own footsteps, and the sound of snow falling.

Being small also helped; I could slip through these narrow gaps, and as long as I kept moving. The problem was that eventually the light would fade, and the farther I ran, the quieter things got. Let me tell you, there is nothing scarier than a silent wood late at night, especially when there is no dragon to bail you out. I started running into trees and feeling for them.

If a tree stands in the forest, it does not make a sound. It stands there like a sentinel. I can attest to that fact.

"Hiccup! Where are you?"

Merida! Her voice echoed through the trees. I stopped, tried to locate her voice.

"Here!" This was a risk, but I knew it was her. "Be careful; Outcasts."

"I know! Hold on one minute!"

I didn't hold on. I followed the sound of her voice, to where the echoes were loudest. There was a crash as Toothless ran into me. He started licking my cut and bruised face. I would have laughed but had to push him off. No time for a warm reunion.

"How did you find me?" I asked him and his rider.

Merida patted Toothless. Her brothers, holding onto each other, were maneuvering the device used to control Toothless's pedal. Hamish held the cheat sheet, giving directions to his brothers, who stretched to use the pole and metal.

"Hellhounds couldn't hold back this beastie," Merida explained. "We would have come sooner, but Mum was trying to restore order. By the time she got the lords settled down and Toothless free from those rocks, it was dark. But Toothless found your scent and was on the hunt."

_You left Elinor in the castle to deal with all those lords? Without even telling her where you were going?_

"So it was you flying back there," I said, indicating. "The wings I heard."

She shook her head. "The boys tried, but that pedal's hard to control. And when we tried to fly above the trees, we lost you. So we've stayed close to the ground."

"Then who . . ."

An arrow hit the tree near us. That disrupted the reunion. Alvin had taken longer to find us than I had thought, but he had found us.

"Move aside!" I ran towards Toothless. No time for people rearranging; I pulled two of the boys on my lap and I clicked into the saddle. Merida tucked Hubert under one arm. Hamish and Harris wriggled against my desperate grip, but they stayed put. Their fur cloaks made them feel like bear cubs.

We rose and darted through the woods, Merida shooting arrows back at our assailants. There were a few yells. We broke through the tree canopy.

It was a cloudy night, with bits of snow breaking from the sky and settling onto the ground. My teeth chattered as we soared. Now that I could see, I could identify where we were. The coast stretched below us, with ships. Arrows continued to fire, so we rose above the clouds, out of range. Wind tore at us, only stopping when we passed through the clouds. Toothless snorted and sneezed.

"We need to get back to the castle!" I said, teeth chattering. "Elinor must be worried sick."

"That's going to be difficult," Merida said. Snow caked her cheeks and winter cloak. She shook the flakes off. "Looks like a snowstorm is brewing in the direction of the castle. We'll freeze before we get there, or get blown off-course."

The boys nodded from our respective laps. They wrapped themselves in their furs and wiped the frost from their faces.

"Then what do you propose we do?" I asked, with no little frustration. "We can't make camp here, with the weather and the Outcasts. And if we can't fly back to Dunbroch-"

Their eyes widened. I whipped around to follow their gaze. My jaw dropped, and I shivered harder.

A figure in furs rode on a Deadly Nadder. A figure who I had just seen two days ago, who should have been in Berk.

But she had been here. She was here, riding Stormfly. I couldn't deny the sight of her rigid pose and snow-flecked axe.

"Follow me!" Astrid said with controlled anger and relief. "I know a place."

If it had been anyone else, I would have barraged him with questions. But it was Astrid, so I silently followed her over the tumultuous clouds. A wave of shock came over me, so I could not form the questions I wanted to ask.

* * *

"You never left Scotland."

Those were the first words I managed to say to Astrid after we had settled into a cave. It had taken an hour to reach it, since we had to fly away from the wind and clouds and along a dense cliff of mountain, but anyone trying to climb would need several days for the journey.

The cave was spacious enough to hold ten men, so it hosted two dragons, three medium-sized humans and three triplets easily. The boys had immediately stripped off their wet furs and huddled in a ball of orange hair and skin.

"I know this place," Merida had said with surprise. "When Dad would go on bear hunts, he'd use it in the winter."

Astrid had nodded. "Your parents told me about this cave when I told them I wanted to continue looking for Alvin."

That's when I had spoken, was able to voice my disbelief at seeing her. Not that I was unhappy. Merida found a curtain rod that had been hammered near the cave entrance, hung up musty furs that lay in a heap. It blocked out most of the wind.

"I knew Alvin was going to try something. You really think I was going to let him?" She punched me on my right shoulder, so it didn't hurt as much as it should have. "But I knew that he was watching everything at the castle."

"You could have told me," I said, with no little annoyance.

"If you knew I was here, he would have known as well." She narrowed her eyes at me. "Besides, you didn't seem so happy about having me at the castle."

"Astrid, you were threatening to pull me on Stormfly and fly back to Berk." Despite what had just happened, I found a reason to be sarcastic. "And leave Toothless with the Scots you didn't trust. Much as I enjoy getting kidnapped on a regular basis, I'd rather if the sane and pretty Vikings didn't attempt it."

My dragon croaked agreement. He appointed himself as our guard, watching the swirling world of white outside through a hole in the fur curtain. I could see the guilt in his eyes.

"It's all right bud." I reached for him. "We were outnumbered and facing a psychopath good at mobilizing forces. You came just in time."

That was a lie; they hadn't come in time. If not for Loki, the automatic bola would have captured Merida, not to mention Astrid. Alvin would have left Scotland with a new slave for Norbert and a hostage to get him safely out of enemy territory.

As if sensing my dishonesty, Toothless withdrew from the touch. His eyes fell to the cuts on my face and hands. I raised my wrists and tried to reassure him.

"It's fine. I did this to myself. Remind me to design a switchblade I can strap to my arm."

He growled with concern and nudged my injured wrists.

Astrid set some yak cakes in the cave's center; they gave off less smoke than a pile of wood. Stormfly started a fire and knelt to dry off her wings. Her rider started taking medical supplies out of her pack and Merida passed around a flask of mead. The boys coughed as they gulped their share; their hiccups popped through the howling wind. I took a large sip to warm myself from head to toe.

"You found their camp," I said. "I heard Stormfly flying. How?"

"I was watching for a sign of murderous barbarians, and it was hard to miss them. I was in a village nearby with the white banner for peace, and we received a messenger hawk from Dunbroch. Your spyglass came in handy for finding the Outcasts exactly."

"_My _spyglass?"

She took it out of her pack; the bronze gleamed in the firelight. "I was going to come in and grab you, but of course you had run into the dense woods."

"I thought you told me to run."

"That was because Alvin's men were holding you dangerously close; you would have gotten caught by the spines or could have been used as a hostage. But I didn't want you to disappear completely The only good thing about you running was that Stormfly also set that machine they had on fire; we heard your warning."

I gave a sigh of relief. That sigh disappeared when she swiped a damp napkin across my face, around my left ear. It immediately stung.

"Astrid!"

"It's just yarrow." She reached for my wrists, held them so that the cuts were visible. She swiped them as well before wrapping them in gauze. I hissed and tried to pull away. "You already lost a leg. Can't have you losing another limb."

"Did Gobber put you up to this?"

"He helped me pack several pounds of it before I left Berk. And, by the way, I sent them a letter explaining that Alvin was in Scotland." She gave a steely glance. "We need reinforcements if we're going to fight him."

I made no sound of protest. She was right on that count.

"Why is that Outcast so desperate?" Merida asked from where she took out biscuits and dried meat. "Is it because of the ice?"

"Yeah. With winter coming, there won't be opportunity for him to sail back to the Archipelago if the sea freezes. He probably saw this as his last opportunity."

_The ice. Why didn't I think of that? _

"But that's a good thing, isn't it?" I asked. "This means he can't try again. Not if his escape route is cut off."

They stared. I dropped my hands.

"He's going to try again, isn't he?"

"Alvin doesn't give up," Astrid said. "You slit his throat, and he still recovered to find you in Scotland. And now that you escaped him by turning his weapons against him-"

"We get the point," Merida said, glaring at Astrid. "Ice or no ice, he's got Hiccup on his brain. But at least he can't use that bola contraption to catch us."

_He mentioned having more than one automatic bola. At least they can't make the climb here with the snow and altitude._

The boys took off my cloak, noting how I was shivering and edging closer to the fire. Merida swigged her share of mead before setting it down. Astrid took out a needle and thread. She passed the needle through the flame.

"Hold still," she said. "Grab my knee and squeeze it as hard as you can."

"Astrid, what are you doing?"

"He cut a bit of your earlobe," she said. "What do you think I'm doing?"

Oh gods.

"It's all right, Hiccup," Merida said softly.

"Yeah. It is." I tried to sound flippant. Astrid was not going to sew my mouth shut. She was going to repair the damage that Alvin had caused.

"Toothless," I called. He came over from his post. I placed a hand on his left flank. "All right if I squeeze you so that I don't scream from the pain?"

He nodded. Astrid ran the needle through the fire, to disinfect it, and then she threaded it.

"Wait." Merida reached into her pack and brought out a square of leather. "Bite on this, draugr."

I stared at her.

"It'll help. Dad bit down on a whole saddle when we cleaned what remained of his leg."

I closed my eyes and bit on the leather. The needle pierced the soft skin around my ear. my teeth clenched. Not just because of the sharp pain, but because of fear. Irrational fear.

_This isn't hurting you. This is helping you so that the ear can heal. You're not on an Outcast boat, not in Outcast hands. They can't hurt you now . . ._

Minutes passed. She held the thread and snapped it. She was done. I took a few moments to breathe and relax.

"Hiccup? Are you all right?" Merida asked.

I opened my eyes. Astrid was wiping the blood from my cheek, tracing the cut that Alvin had made. Her fingers were tense. I let go My hand found hers, and I reached the same conclusion she had. An S-shaped gouge, flat and shallow.

"How nice," I said in a dull voice after taking out the leather square. "Alvin gave me a Slavemark scar. With his sword."

"What does that mean?" Merida asked, though I suspected that she knew. The boys crowded to peer at the cut, to even poke it with curiosity. Toothless licked the cut to heal it.

"It means that if other Viking chiefs see it as a Slavemark, then Hiccup becomes a slave, a plaything for them." Astrid's voice broke. "Even if I stitched it up, a thin line would remain. He can't become the Chief of Berk or inherit land, or even have a voice at a Thing. He won't be anything back in the Archipelago."

"I can become mute. It works out as a career option for most people with this symbol." I tried to sound flippant. "I can also become an excellent rower and handyman for other chiefs."

"You think you can joke about it?" Astrid looked like she was about to cry and punch me again. Merida saw the mask I tried to form across my face.

"Hiccup-" she started.

"I can wear a hood and attack teenagers in the middle of the night. It's just a matter of knowing when to rip out your tongue, and that shouldn't be hard to-" My voice broke with the bitter humor. "What do you want me to do? Start sobbing about it?"

"Stop being sarcastic. Stop pretending . . ." She gripped harder. "Do you know what it means? That people are always going to be after you for the rest of your life."

"I know what it means. Once given, it can't be removed."

"You escaped it on Frigga's Promise. You can escape it again."

"And it's not like we're _on_ Frigga's Promise, with Jason. Losing the Mark once nearly killed me; you saw how I was when it was getting removed." Astrid was one of the few people who knew about the snake venom ointment. "Even if we made it to Frigga's Promise, what's to say the other chiefs won't go there first? The minute I step into the Archipelago or even fly into its waters, the chiefs have nothing holding them back. And it's not like I have my mother's helmet, or I could hide the Mark until getting there."

"I could get you a helmet," she said. "Or you could wear protective head covering."

"Even on Frigga's Promise, slaves can be taken from the island unless they're like Jason. The chiefs were going to give the Mark permanently just because I had been attacked." I couldn't hide the rage that burst from my vocal cords. "They might try that same excuse, and wearing a fur hat wouldn't help."

"How would they know that you were back?" she asked with frustration. "Night Furies are the most elusive dragons, and we could travel in hiding for a week before reaching the island."  
"Alvin would know if I had vanished; he'd send the word out to the landlocked chiefs. Most know how to ride dragons by this point, so they'd be on the lookout. And it's not like I have a map."

"But I do." She produced it. "We can find the quickest route using the winds-"

"It won't stop Alvin," I spoke over her. "Even if I got the Mark removed a second time, he'd just find another place to put it."

"Then are you saying what I think you're saying?"

I nodded, throat tight. "It means that until Alvin is dead, I can't ever go back to the Archipelago. I can't ever return to Berk."


	32. Chapter Thirty-One

**Spannerspoon- It's always a pleasure to mention my dear readers. And unfortunately, Hiccup is on the mark about the Slavemark, no pun intended. But he will deal with it, badass Hiccup style. Just not in this chapter.**

"Hiccup, don't be ridiculous," Astrid said. Her lips were trembling. "Let me just sew the scar. They can't claim it's a Slavemark if it technically wasn't made by a brand-"

I looked her. The despair and anger in my eyes froze her.

"Astrid, the other chiefs were going to make me a slave just because they thought I had received the Mark. They hadn't seen it, but they thought I _deserved_ it." I practically spat out the words. "The only reason they sent me as a diplomat was because they thought it was a way for none of them to have me. It wasn't just because Jason had sent letters, had manipulated this exile-"

"Jason was trying to protect you."

"I'm not saying he did the wrong thing." I threw my hands up and winced as they stung. "It's something _they_ did wrong. At least one of the chiefs wanted to make me a slave, and the rest went along with it. What if I had been able to speak for myself on Frigga's Promise, when we had arrived? Would the attack have still happened?"

"Not like we can answer that," Merida said dryly, sharpening an arrow. "We weren't there."

Astrid shot Merida a look. Stormfly lay down beside her rider, wings dry.

"They had already made up their minds about giving me the Mark," I said. "Even if I had convinced them I wasn't just a weapon, a piece of dangerous mistletoe, they wouldn't have backed down. If anything, defending myself would have only made them feel guilty."

"And it didn't go successfully," Astrid said. Her braid started to quiver with anger. "Hiccup, that has to have meant something!"

"They were willing to attempt something taboo for Vikings on peaceful territory. It doesn't matter which chief it was. Except for Mogadon and my dad, the chiefs supported it. Why should I believe that they'd ignore a scar on my face that happens to look like a Slavemark?"

Astrid held back her punch. She instead flattened her map onto the ground, frowning at villages that she had circled in charcoal.

"And don't forget, someone hid the hooded slaves and helped them escape Frigga's Promise. They were going to slaughter all of you before you hit Berk, even though they had signed a treat. That's not honorable Viking behavior."

"You don't know which chief sanctioned that-"

"That's the problem! It doesn't matter who did it; what matters is they all allowed it." I traced the cut. Blood dripped onto my fingers. "They were going to hurt you, just because you were in the way of getting a Dragon Conqueror and dragon training knowledge."

"There isn't any proof."

"They wouldn't leave any. Too clever for that."

"There's something else you're forgetting," Merida broke in. She set the arrow in her quiver and took a swig of mead. "If you hadn't been attacked, Hiccup, you wouldn't have ever come to Scotland.""Well, no." I gave a shrug, painful because of the ear stitches. "I wouldn't have been forced to leave my home and the Dragon Academy."

"But then you wouldn't have met us. Not Mum, Dad, me or the boys." Merida opened her arms so she could pick up Harris and wipe his nose. "Granted, you wouldn't have been a draugr either. But it's been different having you and Toothless in the castle. It's been . . . nice."

Harris nodded and squirmed against her handkerchief. His brothers mimicked the nod.

"Really?" I asked, cupping my hands on my knees. "Even with the Outcast attacks and the nightshade poisonings?"

She nodded and reached for my knee. She gave it a gentle, chaste squeeze before returning her attention to her brother's face.

"The boys, I mean, they like me a lot, but they've always wanted an older brother. Someone they could look up to who wasn't a girl." She shrugged. "We like having Toothless around, because he's a ball of fun who likes his fish."

Toothless gave her an approving warble. Harris gave me a feeble thumb up and sneezed. He shivered, so Merida set him close to the fire.

"And Mum having her attention on you, she's been able to help you better. You're not as broken as you were before, and you learned to fight. Properly."

Astrid gave an unladylike snort. She was still bent over the map.

"Do you have something to say?" Merida asked sharply.

"Just this." Astrid fixed a glance on her. "I told you to keep Hiccup safe, to watch out for him. And you didn't."

"I did my best," Merida said. Her pose grew more rigid. "You could have told us just how dangerous Alvin was, the sort of tactics he used."

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to STRESS how dangerous a man is when he can walk into your castle anytime and expect to carry someone important off," Astrid shot back. "And I was hoping that I could find him in one of the coastal villages and burn his ship down."

"On your own? Just one Viking shield-maiden?"

"A shield-maiden with a dragon." Astrid stroked Stormfly, but the stroke was not gentle. Her eyes glinted. "A very dangerous dragon that could eat ten Outcasts for breakfast."

"You could have allied with my mum's guards," Merida said. "Have some back-up, since you didn't succeed in finding Alvin."

"I DID find him. Without Scottish help." Astrid was growing more irritated by the moment. Any moment and she'd reach for the axe tied to her back. "The problem was that he never stayed in the same place twice. Or whenever I caught up to him, they'd have the machine that they stole from Berk. Stormfly and I had a few near misses, but she had her spines for cutting through ropes."

"Ha! So you didn't find him! And you nearly got caught!"

"Like you would have done better! You've never ridden a dragon into battle, you arrogant little-"

"Girls!" I snapped. "We don't have time or space to have another honor duel. I don't know how long this storm could last, and for all we know we'll be trapped for weeks."

Toothless snorted. He shot purple into the fire, making it shoot sparks into the ceiling.

"Okay, maybe not weeks," I said. "Thank to the two dragons who can blast through the snow. But we can't bicker. Merida, it was my fault that Alvin got the drop on Dunbroch. I should have told you and Elinor how dangerous Alvin was."

"You got poisoned and threatened before any word of Alvin could get out," she retorted. "Almost like he knew you would tell and wanted to squelch it. You DID try."

"I was rambling and panicking. But I should have been clearer. You were right about that, when we were fighting the Outcasts in the corridors."

"Yeah, about that." She leaned back. "We've both held things back. You did because you were a draugr; we did because we wanted to keep you sane."

"He's not a draugr," Astrid said, not willing to back down. "He's still alive."

"No thanks to you."

"Merida!" I said sternly. "Come on!"

She dropped it. Astrid still looked murderous.

"We've all held back information. But starting now, need to pool ALL the information we have," I said. "That way we're on equal footing in terms of what we're facing. Then we can get a good night's sleep and plan for tomorrow."

"I vote that we sew that cut up first," Astrid said. "THEN we can talk."

"If it will make you feel better, you can sew the Slavemark up," I said. "But I don't think it would make a difference to those chiefs."

"It's not a Slavemark!"

"It's not a birthmark either, or a battle scar."

She ran the needle through the fire again. I clutched Toothless and bit on the leather again. It was quicker this time, less skin to patch up.

The stitches still hurt. The conversations that followed hurt even more.

"You summoned LOKI?" Astrid demanded, since I had volunteered my information first. "The god of mischief? Were you out of your mind?!"

"I didn't have a choice!" I shot back. "Gothi told me that to talk to him, I had to make him an altar! And she said to go to the Crafty Carver in Scotland! You don't disobey the Village Elder!"

"You do if she gives you a suicidal order! He's the kind of god who allows a man like Alvin to live and torment you!" Astrid picked up her axe and rushed for the cave wall. She started swinging without nicking the rock. Stormfly and the boys retreated, Stormfly squawking with displeasure. "How- could you be- so- stupid?"

"Loki's also the kind of god who let me escape from Alvin!" I exclaimed, alarmed at her fury. "You honestly think will o' the wisps explode into blinding light by themselves?"

"That's what the wisps did? I was wondering about that that," Merida said. She watched Astrid tantrum against the air and hid a giggle behind her mouth. "Hiccup, what do you see in the lass? She thinks every problem can be solved by swinging that axe."

"Not every problem," I said dryly. "Just the ones that involve me in danger."

Astrid didn't even hear this remark; she was still swinging and yelling about my tendency to get in over my head. Foul language made the boys giggle when the shouts didn't make their hair stand upright. I repeated myself that Loki had saved me from Alvin, even though my throat was going dry.

She calmed down. After what seemed like hours, perhaps when she did hit the wall by accident. Her arms must have ached, so she set her axe down and collapsed next to us.

"Loki's trying to make this a fair fight," I said. "If he weren't, then he wouldn't have let me escape from Alvin."

"He thinks you're a gladiator to fight battles for his entertainment." She rubbed her arms. I took them and started poking for tense muscles. "He's a god. You don't get what you want from a god for free."

"I gave him an altar."

"And he gave you an Impossible Task: make peace between the Scots and Vikings. Hiccup, the tribes aren't united enough to sign such a treaty." Her muscles tightened under my scraped fingers. "And if you're what you're saying is true, they won't ever be."

"It seems most of the tribes are united against us. That ought to count."

She pulled out of my grasp and reached for her axe.

"I'm joking, Astrid."

"Joke like that again, and I'm SHAVING you with this axe," she threatened.

"You could always ask Loki how exactly you're supposed to achieve this," Merida remarked. A placid smile had come onto your face. "He showed up in your room only hours after the witch sent him the altar. Maybe he wants you to perform things in a certain way."

"I'm sure Loki is always obliging," Astrid said sarcastically. "Hiccup can just send out a messenger hawk with a note.'Hi Loki, you're really putting pressure on me to do something that can't be done. How am I supposed to pull a magic solution out of my butt and kill this murderous Outcast?'"

"I managed to find a way to stop the Green Death, thanks to you," I said. "That involved doing something crazy."

"This isn't a murderous dragon with a big appetite," she responded. "This is a human being."

Funny. I had been thinking the same thing only a few short months ago. Dragons had the fire and the claws, but most weren't evil. The ones that were, like the Green Death, had weaknesses that a smart person could exploit.

We humans had weaknesses, but we also had the capacity to address them. We had the ability to learn from our mistakes. That's what made us so dangerous. Especially when we committed evil.

"Your turn," I said. "What information did you find?"

She brought out her map, smudged charcoal when showing the villages she had marked. Most were along the coast, although a few were inland.

"These were places where Alvin had gone before," she said. "The ones that are double circled are places where he has either recruited Scots forcibly or taken over. I've sent messenger hawks to the queen where I could, if they didn't try to shoot me down."

Merida frowned. "We would have heard of such a campaign. Most of these invasions are in the lords' claims on the mainland."

"Centered around Dingwall property," I commented, remembering my lessons with Elinor. "Alvin could have posed as a trader to give Lord Dingwall the automatic bola, and to get Scottish clothes."

"Then while Dingwall was away, coming to Dunbroch, he'd invade," Merida said. "All the lords brought their best men with them. But the winter ice would trap Alvin's escape route. Not like he knows how to ride a dragon back to your home sweet home."

"And good thing for that," I said with a shudder. "If Alvin had a dragon army, he could have easily decimated all the lords' soldiers without blinking."

"Aye. That would be a problem."

"From what I've heard, you'd be the most valuable slave in the Archipelago if caught," Astrid admitted. "Even with the 'Dragon Conqueror' novelty wearing off with most of the tribes knowing how to train dragons. If Alvin had a strong reason for launching this campaign, it would be to get his revenge on you AND make a tidy profit afterward."

Her voice shook. I didn't blame her. Sometimes it took greater courage to face a horrible truth than to face a monstrous human.

"Even so, there's no point in carrying off a slave if you can't go anywhere," Merida frowned. "And why didn't our men recognize Viking ships? We never forget our enemies."

"Because they don't have Viking boats," Astrid answered. "Different shape and structure, more equipped to hold useless trinkets rather than weapons. It seems most likely that they found neutral trader ships, took them over, and brought them to Scotland. That was two weeks ago, around the same time Hiccup was attacked."

We stared at the map, all five humans and two dragons. Alvin had killed innocent, peaceful people for their boats, I was sure of it. He wasn't exactly the type who would maroon traders on islands just because he wanted their vehicles.

"So disguising his trail, having several automatic bolas on hand, made by the Hysterics," I said. "And coming on a campaign to get one valuable slave."

"Unless he wants to declare war quietly." Merida pointed to three villages, each circled several times. "In the winter, these ports are important for trading, which the Dingwall clan is good at. If he were holding them hostage, threatening to kill everyone in those villages, we'd be crippled when importing supplies. Usually they're heavily guarded but in the winter no one thinks of attacking."

"That's what I found as well." Astrid released a tense breath. "Any soldiers left behind were new recruits eager to prove themselves, farmhands with nothing to do after the harvest. They wouldn't have stood a chance against seasoned Outcasts."

She and Merida were able to agree on something. We were making progress.

"Suppose Alvin were planning to stay out the whole winter," I said. "This has to be his plan now with the snowstorm. He has Dingwall uniforms but he got busted. The Hysterics must have lent him that automatic bolas, assuming they could snag me or other slaves in the process. Now he's late on adding his part of the deal."

From what I could surmise, the original plan had been to grab me and take me to one of these towns, which none of the lords would have known about, because no raiders in his right mind would invade without an escape route. Alvin certainly wasn't in his right mind, but the lords couldn't have known that either. That was why he hadn't allowed me to talk my way out; there wasn't time. Hysterics were insane, but they held grudges for centuries.

"His plan kept changing. Originally, it was to carry me off and make it look like Scots had attacked the Viking diplomat, late at night with no witnesses." I traced my finger along the edge of the map. "When I fought back, he tried to scare me into leaving with Toothless; he probably had the automatic bola ready to catch Night Furies. That didn't work because Elinor wouldn't let me leave. And she kept me safe." _And locked up in the infirmary._

"Then he attacked your reputation," Merida said, "spreading those rumors to the lords to make you look like an enemy."

"Rumors with a grain of truth. This was his last resort, threatening your mother so I would come quietly. And it worked." My voice went deadly soft. "It WORKED."

"No, it didn't."

"Only because a Norse god answered my prayer," I said. "Not because I thought my way out. Which is what I usually do."

"But he wasn't able to sail off," Merida said. "He's not able to now. We can find him, tell my mum about the invasion, liberate the villages and kick his Outcast heinie."

"That won't be enough. We need to make sure he's dead for certain, so he can't keep coming back." I clenched my fist. "Which means I have to do my job as a diplomat properly, make sure there's peace."

"Not going to happen, if you can't unite the tribes around a common front," Astrid said. "And the lords will be disinclined to work with Vikings after an invasion like this."

"My ancestor Hamish II was able to make peace happen," I told her. "He was also a Hiccup, but he stopped the raids on Scottish territory."

"Hamish also was good at inventing ways to kill people. You saw his death traps."

"Which we outsmarted in one day."

"I don't want to see you kill again. It was bad enough when you had to kill those two Outcasts, to protect us." She bent her head. "When I saw what you were becoming . . ."

"I'm not going to kill. I'm just going to start small," I said. "We're already working together, Scots and Vikings. We just need to make it official."

Astrid sighed. She knew what I was about to ask.

"Just until Alvin's defeated, let's have a truce. No honor duels, no insults, no criticizing each other's fighting styles. We work together. Even if it's just the five of us, a Viking shield-maiden, a Dragon Conqueror, and Scottish royalty."

Astrid grimaced and offered her hand. Merida looked at it.

"This doesn't change anything between us," Astrid said.

"It shouldn't," Merida said. "And it won't, axe-swinger."

She took Astrid's hand with a bone-crushing grip. Then the boys crowded around and offered their sticky palms.

"Us too," Hamish said.

"Princes of Dunbroch," Hubert added.

"For Hiccup." Harris used both hands to cover Astrid's.

She could not hide her smile, but her handshake was stiff. She didn't trust any Scot, however adorably they spoke with missing teeth.


	33. Chapter Thirty-Two

After the handshake, there was not much more to do than sleep. The mead took its effect, making us bone-tired. I had lost a bit of blood from the cuts Alvin had made, and the fire cast drowsy warmth.

We did all we could to block out the cold that whistled through the bear curtain. Merida found more bear skins for herself and her brothers; they curled up next to me and Toothless, on my right. She handed me the thickest pelt.

"Keeps the cold out," she said.

Astrid had a simple blanket rolled up into her pack, but she rested near my left side. I pulled the bear pelt on top of the two of us. She wrinkled her nose at the musty smell.

Merida gave us a knowing smile. Her brothers peered curiously at the two of us. Astrid stared back, but she wasn't able to hold it up. Those green eyes were hypnotic beams in the darkness, like Toothless's eyes when he was curious about something.

Toothless spread his wings as best he could while making himself comfortable. Stormfly did the same on Astrid's smile, though not before adding more sparks to the fire and spines that blocked the wind. Toothless tried to cover Merida and her brothers, but a forty-foot wingspan did not translate into enveloping me, the princess and the triplets.

"It's all right, Toothless," Merida said. "We'll be warm enough."

Toothless gave up and curled around the five of us. He did not look ready to sleep, with only bear skin covering Astrid and me. Nevertheless, he closed his eyes with a wary resignation, his ears pricked up. Stormfly did the same. In time, even the fire stopped crackling as we drifted away from the cold realities.

I lay on my right side so that the stitches wouldn't hurt. Astrid stroked my hair as if I were a child, trying to smooth whatever tousles she could find. I could feel her shaking, trying, and struggling not to cry. Vikings didn't shed tears, after all.

_I'm sorry, Astrid_, I wanted to say. _I know you said you didn't want to marry me until the idiots in the world stopped coming after me, but it looks like idiots and geniuses alike are always going to chase me. This means we'll never be together, unless you decide it's worth the risk._

I should have been suspicious that no dreams haunted my sleep. Instead of the nightmares and recollections to which I had become accustomed, black peace instead gathered in my head. At times I would wake and actually go back to sleep with a smile on my face. It was a bliss to rest without the past haunting me.

My excuse? I was tired. Exhausted and shivering, even with the fire drying our clothes and the stinging stitches.

A spear of sunlight and flakes of snow poked through the hole in the bear curtains. The wind had died to a whispering voice. Astrid stirred, her hair spread over my face. Her breath was hot, her cheeks red against the rough fur. I pulled golden strands out of my mouth, trying not to wake Astrid as I untangled her arms from my shoulders. We had apparently embraced in sleep.

I felt awake. Not wanting more sleep. Bright-eyed and perky. Not needing several pots of tea to start the day.

Thank the gods that Merida had kept spare bear pelts in this cave, or it would have been embarrassing if Astrid had woken up to find her arms wrapped around me, one clamped over the front of my trousers. I slipped from out of the pelt, straightened my clothes - no missing pants or shirt this time- and felt my muscles tighten in suspicion.

That feeling shouldn't have come so easily. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Toothless sensed the unusual sensation too; he was pacing near the cave entrance. He growled at the pile of snow that threatened to lay siege to the bear pelt, although the pile was much smaller than it should have been, not to mention much wetter. Where Toothless paced, the floor was scorched; he must have been melting the snow that was coming in over night

Stormfly also appeared restless, but she wouldn't leave Astrid's side. Instead, she watched Toothless and squawked softly to him at times.

Merida gave a loud, echoing yawn. She rubbed her eyes and saw my tense pose, the worried look in my eyes.

"Good morning. What is it, Hiccup?"

"I don't know," I said. "How long did we sleep?"

"Since we have sunlight, apparently a rough time. We all had a rough night," she said, flailing for a logical explanation. She sensed the wrongness that the small bit of sunlight implied.

Astrid rolled to her feet, threw off the bear pelt, and wielded her axe. Realizing we weren't under attack, she returned her axe to her back and gave a feral smile.

"Good morning to you too," Merida muttered, but she turned her face away so that Astrid didn't hear.

Toothless used his wings to brush aside the bear curtains. He then reared up and blasted the fallen snow's remains. Stormfly got up and did the same, until a full doorway of sunlight came through the cave entrance and we could see the cloudy sky outside. A cloudy sky that nevertheless had a midday sun making its rounds to enter the sea and start nighttime.

The fireballs woke up the boys. They stood upright and wiped their mouths. Harris coughed while Hubert blew his nose on his shirt. Hamish walked toward us with a wobbly totter.

"We must have been sleeping for a while." Astrid frowned at the entrance. "That much snow must have blocked the light.

I shook my head. "It's not just that. We've been sleeping for too long."

"You're right, Hiccup. We need to get back to Dunbroch before the storm starts up again." Merida crawled toward her pack. She fumbled through it, trying to cram everything into the satchel.

"I don't think it will," Astrid frowned. "But just in case, we may need to stop in a town and send a messenger hawk ahead. That way, if the storm does start, they'll at least know where we are."

"We have to be on the lookout for Alvin," I said. "This means we'll have to stay away from the coast, from the villages that he's invaded. I also need to find a smithy, just in case we need to get weapons fixed or something. I can also fine tune the device in case the boys need to ride Toothless without me."

"That is not happening." Her voice became deadly. "You and Toothless are staying together. Period."

"Fine. I'll stay with my best bud and not fine tune the backup plan."

"You don't sound happy about that."

"He's hurting innocent people, Astrid. If I were a brave Viking like I should be, I'd be tearing in and liberating all those villages."

She placed a hand on my uninjured cheek. My stitches writhed against the touch, but her eyes were gentle.

"Hiccup, it's not cowardly to seek backup when you need it," she said. "Alvin's shown that he will do whatever he wants to nab you, and he'll seize any opportunity. Suppose you charged into those villages and got captured again. Then you wouldn't be able to broker this peace and make him killable-"

"Boys?" Merida asked, suddenly frozen.

Her brothers turned their heads identically. She was pulling out the remains of a wrapped packet. A bundle that I had seen before. With the CC insignia on the paper.

Oh gods. I had forgotten about that bundle. Also, had forgotten that I have given the bundle to the triplets, to hide from Fergus.

"Boys, did you pack this?" I asked.

They shook their heads and looked at the package curiously. Only crumbs flew out of it now.

"We threw whatever provisions we could find with my things," Merida said. Her voice became oddly strained, as if realizing what I was thinking.

"What is it?" Astrid asked.

"The witch, she gave me those biscuits. To eat on the way home from visiting her."

Astrid walked toward us, axe lowered but ready to strike at the empty bundle.

"Were they magic?" she asked.

"I don't-"

"Look, there's a note!" Merida cried, pulling it out of the bundle. We all peered to read it, holding it near the cave entrance. Spidery handwriting, written on thin parchment paper. Green ink, blotted at the corners. Merida read it aloud because the Scottish letters were hard for me to read, using her ability to project her voice:

_Highness,_

_During our chat, I borrowed five hours of your time, and these five hours are located in each of these biscuits. Magic always demands a price, especially when borrowing time. Eat these biscuits slowly and wisely, for when each sweet his digested you lose an hour and gain strength. Do not sleep after swallowing then, for the effect is then multiplied by 8! Also, do not have with any alcohol or the effect becomes twice as strong. Time is a precious commodity. _

_Thank you for your business! I hope you purchase more carvings soon!_

_Sincerely,_

_The Crafty Carver_

If only I had thought to unwrap the bundle after receiving it. Reading that note days ago could have saved us more than a bit of trouble.

"We had one biscuit each, with mead, and we slept," I said. "Five of us, not counting two dragons. So forty hours each. Then multiplied by two-"

"Four days." Astrid looked fearful and vigilant. "We've been out of it for four days."

"But how could the dragons not have noticed? Wouldn't they have woken us?"

Toothless indicated sniffing the air and pacing.

"The mead fumes," I said. "Mixed with the biscuit smell and it was concentrated in the cave. Must have transferred the spell to Toothless and Stormfly. Even so, they were awake before we were but didn't want to leave us. Maybe they couldn't wake us, because it was a spell."

Merida took a moment to process this. Hamish's face turned white as the flakes that Toothless had just blasted. His brothers' faces also became pale as they realized that they had drugged us, accidentally.

" It wasn't your fault," I told them. "This is the price Loki made us pay for letting me escape from Alvin. He probably switched the bag of regular biscuits with the witch's bundle, knowing it would cost us time. Literally."

The wind whistled through the cave, and it seemed to laugh at us. Loki was most enjoying himself.

"Told you it was a bad idea to contact the trickster god," Astrid said. "For all we know, your dad could already be in Dunbroch with a dragon army."

"They wouldn't be here already, would they?" Merida asked. "You sent the message two days ago, right? The mail would take twice that long to reach Berk."

"Four days ago, and I don't want to take any chances," Astrid replied, trying not to sound hostile. "Your dad would fly all the way here, as fast as he could, if he knew Alvin was here. Which he will if he doesn't know already. And by dragon, it would take two days to arrive here."

"But my dad is reasonable, even if he's worried about Alvin," I said. "He can surely keep an army of newly trained dragon riders under control while trying to talk to the queen."

She started to roll up her pack, not meeting my eyes. Her fingers fumbled with the knots, tying them quickly.

"Astrid, you didn't ask Snotlout and the twins to come, did you?"

"You know they'd come even if Stoick chained them to their beds and told them to stay put!" She snapped, tying her pack to Stormfly's saddle. "They don't have anything better to do!"

_Actually, they do, but of course they would fly to Scotland after hearing Alvin was back, hearing I was in danger. At least, the twins would. _

"Toothless, let's saddle up," I said. "We need to get back to the castle before war breaks out. Or lots of property damage."

He grunted in agreement and let me adjust the saddle. His eyes remained on the dipping sun, still glazed from the fumes that had sedated all of us.

Since Alvin hadn't given me time to pack extra clothes or even a toothbrush, I only had to make sure Toothless's saddle worked, and that I could hold the boys on my lap. When that was done, I helped Merida. She was biting her lip, and trying to be efficient. She instead kept dropping items like the mead flask. Hubert caught the bottle before it rolled into the cave wall. Harris brought over the device I had given Merida to control Toothless's pedal.

"Mum's going to kill us," she said. "My brothers and me."

"And me," I joked. "I'm part of the family now."

"You have an excuse; you were carried off. But four days missing in the middle of winter!" she shuddered. "The last time I ran off, Mum was worried even though it was for a few hours, in the summer. And that was after I had seen the witch and bought that bear spell."

That made me pause, because the story didn't exactly pull at the heartstrings. Yet she had a reason for telling it. I had never seen Merida look so guilty. Or clumsy. The boys had to catch her arrows as they spilled.

"I'm surprised there aren't search parties out there looking for us! Dad must be frantic as well, not being able to hunt in the winter."

"Search parties?" That hadn't occurred to me. "We have to scout the area looking for them first, so Alvin doesn't find them. They have no idea what they're dealing with!"

"They have an idea of what Alvin can do, but camped out in the snow like that?" She shook her head. "No, more likely it would be sending messenger hawks to the different villages, asking if they've seen us. Only war would make Dad set up tents in the woods this time of the year."

"Alvin declared war when he threatened the queen and invaded Dunbroch. Even if they were wearing Dingwall colors, the queen would identify them as enemy Vikings. For all we know, the men want to get out there and fight, to avenge their honor."

Merida considered. The triplets surrounded her, eyes brimming with anxiety. Then she nodded and bent to help them fasten their cloaks.

"We search for the search parties then. For my dad, before he gets himself killed. THEN we head to the castle. Harris, stand still. Mum doesn't need to kill me twice if you die of cold."

He sneezed in response, and she wiped his nose with her dress. Astrid wrinkled her nose.

A few minutes later, bundled in cloaks, Merida and the boys sitting behind me, we set off. Astrid had her map of Scotland open, outlined with the route that would allow us to fly along the coast to reach Dunbroch. We would avoid the towns that Alvin had invaded, unless the tents and battle flags were obvious there, because he had referenced having more than one automatic bola.

First, however, we descended down the mountain, hovering over the snowdrifts. Astrid had brought up the notion that since Elinor had told her about the cave, and that Elinor would want to search near here, as close as she could. So we'd scan there first, and if Alvin were there, we'd high-tail it to the nearest village and send a messenger hawk.

If not for the dire circumstances, I would have enjoyed the landscape below us even with the cold. Snow had turned the mountainside into a Snoggletog painting, making the trees bend over and drape like beautiful maidens from Valhalla. Sparse sun glinted off the white slopes, so that it resembled a slice of painted diamond.

I could tell that Merida enjoyed it as well, from the way she leaned back and clung to her two brothers. She was talking to them, pointing out the sights. Harris was on my lap, as I steered. He wrapped his tiny arms around me and watched with wide eyes.

"It wasn't your fault," I repeated. "You did good, coming to rescue me. I'll fix the device and teach you how to fly Toothless properly."

Harris nodded and rubbed his nose on my cloak. He tried to cover it up with an innocent grin.

"Also that my clothes aren't silk handkerchiefs."

Only a fool would think that Merida and I were a couple. I remember taking Astrid for her first flight, how the light had entered her eyes and how she had hugged me as twilight turned to night. Merida was more concerned about her brothers, soothing them. Astrid led the way down, her eyes turned suspiciously on us. But she had nothing to fear.

We made good time, reaching the mountain's bottom in a few hours. By then it was late afternoon Astrid took my spyglass and scanned for gaps between the trees. We soared over trees and slopes that slowly flattened into crowded plains.

"There!" she cried, pointing. "I see the Dunbroch banner! There's a clearing up ahead!"

It wasn't a war camp; we knew because we didn't hear the clanging of steel, but rather the fluttering of many colored banners. Even so, we were cautious as we neared. Alvin had stolen Dingwall colors before, and he may have stolen Dunbroch ones as well.

"Keep your eyes out for automatic bolas," I muttered. Astrid heard anyway, and she nodded.

"Be ready to dodge anything that comes our way," she said. "And to cut lots of rope."

The soldiers cried out in alarm as they saw their queen's children and two dragons hover above the clearing. Yet they were not Outcasts; they were the castle guards that we had seen only a week ago, as well as some from the MacGuffin clan.

We took in the situation: lots of tents, thicker than the usual brand, and there were lots of campfires.

"Does it look safe?" I asked Merida. She adjusted Hubert and Hamish to chew on her thumb, to ponder.

Elinor walked out of the largest tent with dignity, but at a fast pace. She was wearing winter furs and had tied her hair back. Her voice expressed un-regal relief and delight, shouting at us to land and at the soldiers to make room for us.

"Safe for you," Merida responded; she looked guilty and sullen at Astrid having been right. "Let's get this over with."

Astrid couldn't help but smirk at Merida's guilty look, but she also seemed relieved. We were quiet as our dragon's claws hit the damp, frozen ground, hopping off. The soldiers provided the noise instead, yelping in wonder and shock.

"Don't you ever disappear on me again," Elinor scolded Merida and the boys as they dismounted. "Even if it's for a noble purpose. Do you know how long we've been searching, not knowing where you were?"

They hung their heads.

"But thank you for coming back safely. All of you." She pulled us all in a hug, and beckoned Astrid to join us. After some hesitation, she did. The queen's long arms and hair wrapped around all of us. Then she scratched Toothless behind the ears.

Maudie also came out. She fussed over the boys, scolding Harris for catching a cold and Hamish for having crumbs on his face. She practically clung to Toothless and gave him the scratching of a lifetime. He collapsed with pure pleasure as Stormfly glowered.

It wasn't over. We had a war to fight, an immortal Outcast to kill, and my dad's dragon army to comfort. But at least we could make one person happy, in the dying hours of a day in the winter.


	34. Chapter Thirty-Three

**Spannerspoon- No, not an evil cliffhanger. But this chapter does, warning you in advance. The next part will also have the Vikings return, starting with the twins.**

None of us felt like eating until we sat down in a tent, which had a small bench and table for that particular purpose. We kept our cloaks on because of the cold. Then Maudie brought out small cakes and dried meat, and we dug in. Apparently going four days without food made one's stomach growl like a grumpy bear.

The boys sneezed as they crammed their faces with fruit pastry. Astrid and Merida ate more daintily. Merida still felt guilty about disappearing for four days, and it showed. She still sunk her teeth into an apple and made a show of chewing it.

Elinor told us what had happened in the half-week that we had missed. Her eyes were warm but worried. They drifted to the bandages on my arms, to the stitches on my face.

"We got your messenger hawks from before the Outcasts took Hiccup," she told Astrid. "Fergus has traveled with the lords to the villages where Alvin has invaded, and I went there as well to negotiate, to make sure hostages don't get killed."

"How many hostages were taken?" Astrid asked. She put down her helping of salted cod and tossed it to Stormfly. Toothless tried to catch it first, but Stormfly batted her spiked tail at his face. He growled until I tossed him my cod as well, and he started chewing.

"At least forty, most in the Dingwall villages. Could be more, with trader ships and families gathering together for the frost. He claimed to have you, Hiccup, and for a while Fergus believed him."

I choked on a bite of fruit cake, which had dried berries and apple slices. Astrid asked the necessary question for me.

"How did you know Alvin was lying?"

"For starters, he wasn't able to produce Hiccup to prove his claim," Elinor remarked. "Nor was he able to show that he had Merida and the boys, let alone Toothless. At the moment Fergus is keeping him and his army from further invasion. I remembered telling you about the cave, and I had a hunch that you'd be in this area. So I came here, with a smaller company."

Astrid gave a smug smile.

"Even so, it's been a long trek. We don't have dragons after all. How exactly did you get holed up for nearly a week?"

Her smile faded. Stormfly lifted her head and noted the tension.

"We got holed up, Your Majesty, in the cave."

"But you have a dragon, Astrid. You could probably have melted the snow that would cause said build-up."

Astrid turned to me for assistance. Merida, seeing the uncomfortable expression on my face, opened her mouth to give some half-brained excuse. I cut her off.

"It's a long story, Elinor, and you won't be happy with me. But I'll tell you. It was a price we had to pay for my escape from Alvin."

Slowly, the words came out, about how I had slit Alvin's throat and he still lived, was able to laugh through the blood that spattered out. How the Village Elder had told me to find the Crafty Carver. At this Elinor jumped to her feet.

"The Crafty Carver? The witch?" Her eyes went wild. "That day in the woods, when you and Merida went out riding, you went to see her! You didn't want to enjoy the outdoors!"

"I didn't get a spell!" I told her quickly. "Gothi told me to get a carving! A wood carving specifically. You had already locked me up for trying to get out of the castle, and I thought it would bring up bad memories if I mentioned what Gothi had said."

"Of course it brings up bad memories!" She stood up, looking overbearing and on the verge of shaking the five of us at once. "Did Merida tell you that she turned me into a bear by feeding me a cake, calling it a peace offering? That half the time I didn't know who I was or what I was doing when I was a bear?"

Merida had turned pale. She pushed away her plate and also stood.

"Mum, Hiccup didn't know that. I only told him-"

"Why would you go back to that woman?" she asked her daughter, with a terrified vehemence. "Didn't you learn your lesson from last time? She's the one who created Mordu!"

"Mordu?" I asked. "You mean the bear that bit off Fergus's-"

"Yes!" she snapped. "That witch is an evil woman, Hiccup! Why would you go to her?"

"She's not evil! If she were evil, she wouldn't have helped me!" I was breathing hard. "She wasn't even going to help because she assumed I was related to the princess. That I was asking for a spell. But I didn't."

"I knew it would upset you if you knew, Mum," Merida said. "But I thought that if Hiccup went, it would help fix him up. That he wouldn't be broken and lying in bed like a sick bairn."

Astrid and I gave her hostile stares. Merida kept talking.

"The witch didn't do anything dangerous to me when I visited her the first time. Not the second time either, apart from the cottage exploding and that was because I mixed the potions. So I knew she wouldn't hurt Hiccup. In fact," Merida gave a rueful look, "she seemed fonder of him than she was of me."

Elinor took a deep breath. She stopped pacing.

"Elinor, I know how horrible it must have been, being changed into a bear," I said softly. "Having someone you thought you could trust deceiving you and taking away your control of a situation. And then not having control over yourself, slowly becoming a story of monster."

Now it was Merida's turn to glare at me. Astrid stopped her from speaking, however, with another sharp look.

"That's what happened to me on Frigga's Promise, and before that," I went on. "The way that Alvin kept attacking Berk, forcing me to become something I wasn't to protect my dragon, and myself. And then Vikings I thought were honorable, trying to give me the Slavemark. That's why you took me in. It was because you had gone through the same thing."

"Do me a favor and shut up, Hiccup," Merida said, turning even paler. But she knew that it had to come out.

Elinor was calming down. Vulnerable words fell from her lips, words that she had not even graced with proper thought.

"I made a mistake, burning your bow, Merida, and trying to force you to become something you weren't. I know that now. But that wasn't a reason to trick me-" She swallowed either a cry of rage or a sob, because neither seemed queenly. "If you were going to get a spell to change me, you could have specified 'change the queen's mind' and 'no bears'. I was dressed one moment and ripping out of my gown in the next. My body was clumsy and knocking things down left and right. Even Maudie was running from me."

"I didn't know it was you!" Maudie piped up in defense of herself. She also seemed calm despite the number of guards that had fled from the tent, not wanting to hear this argument. That interruption allowed Merida to wipe her face.

"What's worse, I hurt you, when I became bearlike in the tapestry room! I nearly killed your father! And then, he thought, he thought . . ."

"He thought you were Mordu," Merida whispered, almost paralyzed.

"Aye." Elinor was completely calm now, even with tears watering through her eyes. "It wasn't just that he was chasing me but rather that he and the lords had tied me down so he could put his sword through my bear heart. It's that I had hurt him, that I was becoming less of myself. That I was changing on the outside and on the inside. You saw, how I nearly became a bear forever, when the sun rose."

Merida nodded; her eyes had also gone teary.

"And then you said you wanted me back, that you were sorry, that you loved me. That made me remember who I was, that I was the queen. It was like a frail thread that my mind clung to, a strand of spider silk that I had to wrap my thoughts around. I was your mother, I was a human being with people to care for, and I had to come back. And I did."

"You did, Mum."

"Sometimes, though, I still dream of being a wild bear, of your father hunting me through the castle. I've hurt you, and the boys are nowhere in sight. In some dreams"

The triplets went to their mother. They started petting her as best as they could, given none of them could reach her knees. She bent to scoop them up and kiss them.

"They also ate the cake," she said softly. "They became wee cubs."

"It was fun!" Harris said.

"Having pointy teeth!" Hamish demonstrated by pulling his lip to show his soft, pink mouth.

"Scaring Maudie!" Hubert put in.

Maudie gave them a stern look and straightened her chest. The boys hid giggles behind their small hands, though they averted their eyes.

The queen had completely regained her composure. She had said what she needed to say.

"You're right, Hiccup, I did see a lot of myself in you when I got the letter from Jason, how you had lost control."

"Jason sent a letter saying what happened?" Astrid interrupted. She had been wide-eyed while hearing this fantastic tale, as well as shocked at seeing Merida close to tears.

"I only found out a week ago, Astrid." I said

"Without telling Chief Stoick about sending a letter?"

"Yes," I whispered. Now it was Astrid's turn to get start steaming. "We'll talk about it later. Jason was helping in his strange way."

She grabbed my hand and clenched it.

"Some form of help," she muttered. "Exiling you."

"Later, Astrid."

After that, Elinor did not explode again. I explained that the witch's biscuits made us pay with time, a few days of rest. She seemed relieved that I had bought only a carving, as I had said, not a spell, though she had a questioning look in her eye when I described Alvin's immortality. Maudie quickly corroborated that story, as did Astrid, who had witnessed the throat-slitting.

Afternoon darkened into evening. A few soldiers tested their courage and brought more salted cod for the dragons. They dug in with pleasure, and then Toothless made his eyes large as twin moons and sniffed the guards, pleading for more. The soldiers couldn't help but smile.

"Easy, bud," I told him. "We're in the middle of war. At the start of winter. We don't want to deplete them of their rations."

He still made his eyes large and adorable. The soldiers chuckled and ran off before the black spheres could mesmerize them.

"We can return to Dunbroch, where there are larger food stockpiles," Elinor said. "Now that you're all safe and sound."

The five of us looked at each other. We knew better, even the triplets. Elinor caught our silent, cynical exchange.

"Hiccup, Fergus and the lords have liberated the inland villages. He's on a thin slice of Scottish coast, and certainly not the part of the coast near Dunbroch."

"I'm not worried about my own safety, Elinor," I said, which was partly a lie. "I'm worried about the lives that Alvin has ruined, the people that he threatens. Like you."

"They underestimated Mum's skill with weaponry," Merida commented.

"Lord Dingwall considers it his personal mission to wipe out the invaders," Elinor said. "He feels that Alvin's taking the Dingwall colors and using them for devious purposes, not to mention taking over several of his important port cities, a personal affront. He also said that he apologizes for what his men did to you, Hiccup."

"It wasn't his men, Elinor."

"Dingwall's not the sharpest axe in the armory," Merida whispered. Elinor cast a sharp glance at her, silencing the blunt words.

"Besides, some of the men we caught were Scots that Alvin had coerced. Men under Dingwall's protection. They said that the invaders were holding their families, but some were lured by the promise of capturing the Dragon Conqueror." Elinor looked at me.

"I don't need protection," I said. "All I need is my dad, the dragon army he's bringing, and Morgan's assistance. I want to be part of the 'kicking Alvin out of Scotland' project, to make him mortal again."

Astrid had reached for another cake, but it stopped halfway to her mouth.

"Your dad," she said. "He doesn't know."

"About what?"

"About Alvin using the device. YOUR invention, Hiccup."

"The one that shoots bolas?"

"No, the one that rocks you to sleep like a baby," she said sarcastically. "Of course the one that shoots bolas! And he has more than one of them. You heard him say that."

"The Hysterics have also upped the firepower . . . ." That's when it hit me, what she was saying.

"Alvin knows that I came to Dunbroch, and he thinks or at least thought that I went back and told your dad. That I'd have to tell your dad or drag you back to Berk." Astrid talked slowly, reasoning it out. "And he knows how your dad likes to swoop in and rescue you."

"Excuse me. On the boat I rescued myself," I said. "For the most part."

"If your dad hadn't come, you would have been stuck on that Outcast ship. So would Fishlegs, Snotlout and me."

"But Dad wouldn't go to where Alvin is," I said. "He doesn't know about the invasion. You didn't tell him in the letter you sent, did you?"

She shook her head.

"Then Dad will come straight to Dunbroch on dragon back. With his army. Dunbroch is on the coast, and if we defend it, we can protect against Outcasts using the automatic bola." I sounded confident about this point. "Dad is good with negotiating with people, and he ought to impress the lords with Thornado and his strength."

"He is very well spoken," Elinor said, giving a warm smile at last. "A man whose values equal mine and cares for his people."

"Maybe he and Dad can spar for fun," Merida said. "Looks like someone can finally match the Bear King in battle."

"Merida!" The queen stared at her.

"You know Dad likes to test his skills, and Chief Stoick didn't have time to do that when he was here last."

"That doesn't mean we want sparring," Elinor rebuked her. "For all we know, your father may lose another limb in this battle. He needs to devote his strength to dispel the invasion, like he did when Vikings previously raided our lands."

"You mean when Fergus became king?" I asked.

"When he allied all the lords together to fend off the raiders," Merida said proudly. "Vikings hordes didn't stand a chance against my dad!"

Astrid opened her mouth to remind Merida that two Vikings were in her company. I elbowed her.

"Truce, remember?"

She glowered and punched my bruised arm.

"Ow!" I rubbed the spot. "What was that for?"

"In case I can't do it later," she said. "In case you decide to do something stupid again."

I attempted to grin. "There isn't time to do anything stupid, Astrid."

"Good."

We finished our sweet evening meal. Elinor told the guards to prepare to break camp in the morning, and that we'd head back to Dunbroch once the late night frost had passed. Astrid and I could fly ahead, but the guards' horses had hooves adjusted to the mountain slopes. Messenger hawks flew to and from the war camps, with changed coordinates for our location.

Merida and her brothers slept with the queen that night. Astrid got her own tent, which would have been enough to hold four men. Elinor was probably worried about my sleeping habits with my girlfriend and didn't want more rumors to spread. I insisted on sleeping outside, under the stars. I had spent too long in that cave, and within Dunbroch's walls. This was probably the last time I would enjoy a clear night. Toothless agreed with me. Elinor eyed us as I borrowed Astrid's blanket.

"I'm not going to fly away, Elinor," I said, lying by a campfire that Toothless had restarted. "It's just we don't often get clear nights in the winter."

She had ceded to that point. But she wasn't worried about my flying away.

"You may catch cold," she said as I tightened Astrid's pack around me. Toothless brought me under his warm wings and curled into a scaly oval.

"Toothless will keep me warm," I said. "And the tents are blocking most of the wind."

She still stared at me, shifting from one foot to the other.

"I thought I'd never see you or my children again," she murmured. "You warned me that Alvin was dangerous. I'm sorry I didn't listen. Just like I didn't listen to Merida."

"I was rambling and panicking," I said. "Rest assured, you know all about him now. And you can defend yourself well against him."

She bent down, uncurled the wing, and left a light kiss on my forehead. It was not a soothing kiss for her, however.

"I wasn't able to defend you from him. I failed you, and your father."

"He's Alvin the Treacherous," I said. Alvin seemed less threatening, trapped by Scots and miles away from this haven of tents. "He managed to burn Berk down to the ground. Good thing Dunbroch's made of stone."

She gave a tight smile. "Rest well, Hiccup. We have a long winter ahead of us."

I lay back, rubbing the spot where she had kissed me.

Since we had slept so much for the past four days, I was wide awake. I lay against Toothless's warm scales, watched the tents' banners flutter with the midnight wind, and felt positive for the first time in days. My dad was coming with a dragon army, with the twins, Snotlout and Fishlegs along with the rest of the dragon academy. Elinor's medic had praised Astrid's stitchery on my face, saying that the scars would not last with her handiwork, that I may not have a proper Slavemark. Dad would kick Alvin's butt like he had before, rescue Endeavor's supernatural copy and ensure that it snapped. I wanted to deliver the killing blow, to make sure Alvin was dead, but the cautious part of me advised that Dad had more experience in defeating Outcasts.

I should have known that things would not go smoothly.

I fell asleep, somehow, and I awoke around dawn. Someone roughly shaking me. I tried to push them off and got pulled from Toothless's protection for my efforts.

"Hiccup, it's important! I can't read this, but the hawk was quite agitated when the guard found it!" Astrid thrust a piece of paper at me. "It almost bit my fingers off it not for Stormfly!"

A bird shrieked in the distance. I blinked as the blobs turned into Scottish letters. Letters that spelled out foreboding, disheartening sentences.

"No," I whispered. My fingers became tight. It was a fake note, a forgery.

Merida came over. She had hooded the hawk and was examining its feathers, which were streaked with blood. Not its blood or it wouldn't have made the flight here from Fergus's camp. Hawks were selfish in that way.

"Fergus saw my dad's army coming to their part of the coast early this morning. Their part, not Dunbroch," I said. "Apparently Alvin had the automatic bola there in droves, because a large portion of the army got taken down by ropes and stones. Fergus's men saw it. They rushed in to help as best as they could, but they couldn't do much other than catch those who were falling."

Astrid sucked in her lips; Merida's eyes widened.

"Most of the army is with Fergus, but their leader fell." I hunched over, shaking knees on the ground. "The man riding a blue Thunderdrum. But it can't be true. Dad would have gone to Dunbroch first, how could he have known where Alvin was? Why would he travel there first?"

Toothless stood up and stretched his wings as Elinor came out. She took the note from my frozen fingers, and read it.

"This is Fergus's handwriting," she said. "He saw the whole thing."

"It's not true," I replied. "Dad wouldn't have, no one can take shoot him out of the sky-"

Astrid reached me first, draping her arms around me. Merida stroked the hawk before arriving as well, patting me on the shoulder.

"Hiccup, I'm so sorry," Merida said. Pale didn't look good on her, the more that I saw it.

I didn't dare cry, but the positive feeling drained from me. I stood there in shock.

Elinor folded the note, a wise move since I wanted to burn it with the remains of last night's embers. She then talked to the camp leader about the change in plans, to break a morning fast and then break camp immediately. She was taking charge. My panic refused to ebb.

_Alvin took down my father. He took down the dragon army. Dad LOST._


	35. Chapter Thirty-Four

We rode silently, together. I could have taken off immediately and seen the carnage for myself, but Elinor forbade me and Astrid from flying. Probably she was worried that I'd charge into battle and find myself in chains. Astrid took her side, as did Toothless and Merida, but I didn't put up that much of a fight. I was in too much shock.

Besides, snow started to fall again, and the camp would need the dragons to help keep warm. We needed to stay together, until we reunited with Fergus. Once we saw just who survived the battle and how many did- and as long as I could keep the Vikings on our side from butting heads with the lords- then I could safely break down.

So, Toothless bounded into the woods, with the whole armed guard behind them. Astrid and Stormfly bounded alongside me, and the princess tried to keep up with her mother, on their horses. Our dragons would melt a path so that we weren't all slipping on slush, and occasionally one of us would fly up to see if enemy armies were approaching us. Astrid tried to point out the landscape's beauty, the trees almost collapsing with snow. The boys would pull pranks on their mother's guard and Maudie; the latter rode with the food wagon while Elinor had her own horse, a beautiful brown mare.

I pressed my lips against the cold. I couldn't press the thoughts out of my brain.

_Alvin has my dad. Alvin BEAT my dad. With something I invented. Alvin has NEVER beaten my dad in a fight. _

The fear was partly selfish; Dad may have thought I was an embarrassment, but he had always protected me. From rampaging dragons, from punishment for befriending a Night Fury, from psychopathic, vengeful Vikings. He had tried his best to keep me alive even if he couldn't stabilize my self-esteem.

The Outcasts were a special case, which made Dad's defeat all the worse. Each confrontation with Alvin had always ended with his large fist plowing into the Outcast's bearded face, or his dragon blasting the enemy ship to shreds.

A stronger part of my brain refused to deny it. Instead, it brought on the guilt and negative thoughts, battling the shock.

_It's my fault. I shouldn't have just run to rescue Elinor yesterday- no, four days ago- walked into such an obvious trap. I shouldn't have been relieved that Alvin hadn't been able to use the original automatic bola back on Berk, when he had first stolen it. I should have been more watchful, more cautious. _

_How were you supposed to know he'd team up with the Hysterics?_

_It was my invention! I ought to have known who would want to use it._

_He had taken your dragon as well. Your INJURED, SEDATED dragon. That was more of a problem at the time. _

Astrid refused to stop talking. She attempted to reassure me, to erase the shock and grief that had crusted over my face.

"A fall like that wouldn't kill your dad, Hiccup. He probably cut Thornado loose but had to fight Alvin on the ground. We're Vikings, a tough breed of warriors."

"Tasteless, too," I heard someone mutter from the back. Could have been Merida or one of the soldiers. Astrid ignored the barb.

"Hiccup, Alvin wouldn't just kill your dad. He's inflamed four armies and is trapped in Scotland. Most likely he wants to bargain."

"Cheerful. Just like he took you hostage the first time we battled the Outcasts on dragons."

"You never told us that, Hiccup," Merida said. She rode beside us and gave a cheeky grin. "Must have been quite an adventure."

Astrid put on speed, and Stormfly sprinted off. They left trail of Nadder footprints in their wake, and Toothless had to set his plasma blasts to clear a path.

"Was that necessary?" I asked Merida.

"I didn't say anything," she answered. "But what happened with Astrid being taken hostage?"

"Alvin being a jerk," I responded. "Something he's good at."

Merida didn't push the subject when Hubert poked her. She rearranged the boys so that they didn't lean and find themselves in the snow. Harris was sneezing, but the sneezes were tiny puffs of air.

A few more moments of silence. The trees echoed Toothless's steps and leaps into the direction that Elinor had indicated. Her eyes lowered in sympathy.

I know how you feel," she said. "It's horrible when you have to be the one to protect your parents. When Dad was hunting my mum, and I had to do all I could to save her. I had to disarm him and break his peg leg, and even then he only listened when the boys tackled him."

Her brothers, who were riding with her, nodded. They mimed Merida sewing as she rode, and how it was harder for them to hold on as bears.

I nodded and faced forward, urging Toothless to leap and catch up with Stormfly. Strange how long ago it had seemed, Alvin taking me to Dragon Island. He had been expecting a ten-foot tall Dragon Conqueror and stormed Berk for the purpose of acquiring him. Then I had shown up, a scrawny runt, to save the hostages the Outcasts had taken, and tricked them into getting me to Toothless. Alvin had underestimated me, had thought I was a runt with nothing better to do. He had also underestimated Dad, who had controlled his anger but still had beaten Alvin to a pulp.

Things were different now. Alvin knew I was dangerous, with or without a dragon. And he had my father. At least, that's what I had to hope for, that he had survived the fall and that Alvin would use him as a bargaining chip. That he wouldn't tell the Hysterics to mark my dad out of spite and bitterness.

I also had to hope that Dad wouldn't break if Alvin used him against me.

* * *

We caught sight of Fergus's colors a little past noon, and it struck me how different things would have been if I had been with Berk's dragon riders as opposed to trained soldiers. For starters, Snotlout would be complaining about the long journey, if there was a point to making it. The twins would want to stop for a bite to eat and maybe set several trees on fire. Fishlegs would be scanning the ground for new dragon species.

"They're here! He's here!"

A Zippleback flew towards us, pouncing on me and Toothless. The guards behind us cried in alarm, as did Elinor.

"Hold your fire!" Astrid ordered. "It's only our friends from Berk, the twins."

"Odd way to show friendship," Merida snorted.

"Hiccup!" Ruffnut said. She knocked me off Toothless before her twin could. She then scooped me up in a bear hug. "You're alive, with some stitches! You look great!"

Some things never changed, no matter how dire the circumstances became. Thinking of the twins had seemed to summon them. Ruffnut had a large bandage on her left arm; making her movements stuff, but that didn't make her hug any looser.

"We knew you would go all Dragon Trainer on Alvin!" Tuffnut said. He grabbed his twin's braid and pulled her off. Or tried to; she released her right hand to punch him, and he aimed a blow for her helmet.

"Good to see you too," I gasped. "Could you put me down?"

She did so but didn't let go. The bandage rubbed against my cloak like sandpaper. It wasn't as tight as Dad's bear hugs-

_Dad._ My teeth clenched, and I swallowed. This wasn't a happy family reunion. Dad should have been the one to come and scoop me into his arms.

Astrid shot her a piercing look that mixed with relief. Only after that did Ruffnut break her hug so that she could tussle with her twin.

"At least we know two people that survived," I tried to say jokingly. "Merida, meet the twins Ruffnut and Tuffnut. Guys, Princess Merida, Queen Elinor, and Hubert, Hamish and Harris."

I pointed to each of the boys, who looked identical with the furs and eyes. Harris still had his cold, but his sniffles had died down during the ride.

Ruffnut and Tuffnut stopped their fight so that they could wave. Then they went back to wrestling with each other.

"THESE are the twins?" Merida asked with undisguised fascination. "The ones who worked together when their dragon was captured?"

I nodded. She dismounted to get a better look at them. The Zippleback's heads narrowed its eyes, all four of them, at her.

"I can see why they'd want to rescue you," she said. "You seem like a loyal bunch."

Flattery seemed to work on Barf and Belch; they lowered their heads before biting each other, emulating their masters.

"You better clear back," I told Merida before running to the Zippleback and calming both heads. No need for our party of Scots to view a fiery explosion.

There was a thudding sound; the boys had leaped from their sister's saddle to examine the twins more closely. Their eyes also gleamed with fascination and a bit of fear when Ruffnut took a moment to glance at them.

"Elinor!" Fergus ran forward from his company, grabbing his wife to hug her. Then he hugged Merida and the boys.

"I knew you'd survive the cold, lass, but take a messenger hawk the next time you go on a rescue mission," he said. "Did you go to the cave?"

"Aye!" Merida nodded, trying to ignore the first part of that remark. "Warm and holey as usual."

"That's my girl!" He kissed the top of her head. Then he kissed the boys, showing amounts of affection despite the men watching him.

The twins stopped fighting to stare at this spectacle. Parents didn't kiss children on Berk, unless the children were swaddled in nursing cloths. Dad had limited his affection to bone-crushing hugs.

"I wonder if those boys have head lice," Tuffnut said.

"If they do, the bugs will latch onto the king's face," Ruffnut said with a smirk. "We can ask to borrow them."

"Guys!" I said, taking advantage of Ruffnut's distraction. "What exactly happened? Are you two all right?"

"Why wouldn't we be? We're using to taking hits to the head," Tuffnut said.

"Besides, our dragon dodged any bola that they threw at us, except for one," Ruffnut bragged. "Isn't that right?"

The Zippleback crowed. Nevertheless, I found marks along the green scales, marks that often signified bruises. The bandage on Ruffnut's arm also told me plenty.

"And my dad?"

That sobered them up. They looked at each other, smiles fading from their faces. Fergus's company gathered around us, to mingle with their separated comrades.

"It's like one minute he was in the air, leading us to kick Alvin's butt, and the next moment he was falling," Tuffnut said. "Your dad doesn't fall. He's not that kind of chief."

I shouldn't have been hoping anyway, but hearing Tuffnut say what I was thinking- and this was TUFFNUT- killed any hope that had been lingering.

"But he didn't hit the sea," Tuffnut assured me. "He hit a lot of Vikings that broke his fall. His and Thornado's. We had to fly off, because he shouted at the whole army to retreat."

"We'd know if he were dead," Ruffnut said. "A chief always goes out with a bang, and it was quite as we tried to dodge. It's like the Outcasts had catapults for throwing bolas."

"They did," I said softly. Toothless nudged me in the back, but the guilt wouldn't ebb.

"Who else got captured?" Astrid asked.

"Mainly the adult warriors, those from Berk taking night classes," Tuffnut said. "Some of the recruits went down, as well, those who had Gronckles or Nightmares that didn't have time to set themselves on fire. Not those with Zipplebacks. Or Snotlout. His dragon fired up on command, burning through the ropes."

That did sound like Hookfang, and it should have reassured me that not everyone I knew had fallen. It should have.

"The ropes didn't wrap around Tuffnut well, so he cut our dragon's wings loose and gave me this souvenir." Ruffnut smiled and lifted her bandaged arm. "Then we went around and caught Fishlegs and Meatlug before they fell. Hookfang shot fire at as many bolas as he could, as did we. Snotlout has the burns to show for it."

Good; none of my friends were hostages this time. It gave me a faint hope that we could come up with a plan to rescue my dad.

The sound of frozen flags fluttering clamped down on that hope, as did the lords cautiously approaching. I looked up, and I remembered.

It couldn't just be my friends from Berk. It had to be the Scots as well. Alvin had hurt all of us.

* * *

I went to visit everyone first, to make sure they were all right, and to keep the Zipplebacks from burning down the tents. Most were lain up in nursing tents while shouting that they did not need medical attention. The uninjured drank away the cold and the sight of wounded dragons with their riders. At this rate we'd need to break open a few frozen bee hives to replenish our mead stores.

A small blond girl with a broken wrist had to be restrained by four men as she screamed that we couldn't keep a Bog Burglar under lock and key. Her dragon was putting up a similar fight, a new red species that tried to turn invisible, but it wasn't spitting fire. They managed to sedate it with dragon nip.

Astrid shook her head and stopped me from going to calm the beast down.

"Changewing," she said by way of explanation. "Stealth dragon. Fishlegs found their eggs, the mothers got angry, and we somehow reached an agreement. Camicazi was the first to bond with one."

"That dragon may burn the whole camp down."

"They spit acid, not fire. Besides, I think it will be good for the two of them to rest up."

She wouldn't let go, and eventually the dragon curled up in a relaxed ball. So did her rider. We moved on to the other tents. Snotlout was covered head to toe in burns, and he shouted in fever how he was going to make the Outcasts pay for declaring war on Berk. Hookfang stood by him; keeping vigil and only loosening up to let me check his rope burns.

Thuggory and his Gronckle were mostly uninjured. He leaped up and grasped my hands when he saw me, despite the gash on his forehead.

"Thank goodness you're all right," he said.

"Thank goodness _I_ am? Look at you!"

"I'm all right, thanks to you friends." He looked down. "I had a flashback when we started falling, me and my dragon, and I panicked. But Snotlout's Monstrous Nightmare managed to undo the ropes, and Emerald took over, flying me out of there. I wasn't feeling brave at all, despite having gone into battle before."

I swallowed, remembering how only a few months ago he had been scared of heights, what it had taken to get rid of that fear. Thuggory may have been a more ideal chief's son, but he was also a boy with tangible fears.

"This will make a neat scar." He pointed to the gash. "But losing a dad leaves worse scars doesn't it? Especially when your dad is the chief?"

I flinched.

"I'm not saying this to rub it in. I'm saying this to motivate you," he said. "To rescue your dad, and make sure the battle plans include that."

"Not sure if the other lords will listen," I shrugged.

"You managed to conquer the Green Death AND allow Vikings to land on Scottish territory peacefully. Peacefully! All because of you."

"But I didn't do it alone," I protested. "I did it-"

"By bringing people and dragons together." He grasped my hand, noted the bandages. "If a guy can make peace between the Vikings and Scots, then he can come up with a clever plan to get Stoick the Vast out of Alvin's hands. You _have_ to do it."

"I know."

"Not just because he's your chief. Because he's your dad." Thuggory swallowed. "You should have seen how frantic Stoick the Vast got when he got Astrid's letter."

"Not helping, Thuggory. But I will try to get him back."

"Good." He clapped me on the shoulder.

The twins went to hang with the bards. I didn't know why at first, until I listened to what the bards were singing. Then my jaw dropped.

"No way," I said. "They're singing about the twins!"

"They must have gotten tired with Mordu," Merida said, who had changed into a clean hooded cape. "Your anecdote inspired the bards. This is quite interesting bonding!"

More importantly, the twins weren't punching each other or trying to blow up trees. They had sat down on a bench to listen and drink. One problem averted.

Lord Dingwall looked subdued as we made war council, over mead and dry cheese. His fingers clenched and unclenched, and he hadn't arranged his kilt properly. His son did most of the talking, detailing how they were helping the dragon army, trying to find someone in charge.

"A good thing you're here," Lord MacGuffin said to me as we drank mead. "Since you're the chief's son AND the dragon conqueror."

The thought made my insides go cold, even with the burning alcohol. I had to act in my dad's place. Had to make sure things didn't break out into a brawl. No pressure there.

Fishlegs came into give an accurate account, given his attention to details. His arm was latched to a tall girl with curly hair, a girl who looked extremely cross. Tantrum O'Ugerly, heir to the Uglithugs and hot-tempered as an insane boar. His red face was not entirely due to the cold, and she only let go of him after giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead. The twins clapped him on the back before letting him sit.

"Congrats," I mouthed at him, managing to smile. He gave a squeak and sat on a crude wooden stool. She took the seat next to him. Tantrum's fingernails were as long as her patience was short, and they tapped against his shoulder, distracting him.

"We were going to come by the open sea, but then we came across stragglers," Fishlegs explained, trying his best not to stammer. "People walking on the ice. They looked frozen and half-starved, so we stopped to help them.

"They were confused that Vikings on dragons were giving those warm clothes and food, explained that other Vikings had forced them to walk the sea from the Dingwall lands. These men had to walk; if they even turned to look back, the Outcasts would stab knives into their families. Only choice was to go forward, to perish in the ice and deliver a message to the chief of Berk."

Dingwall gave an inarticulate cry of rage. He was picturing his good men forced to become sea icicles, walking until their legs fell off from numbness.

"That's horrible," I said. "So they told Dad to make that detour, to go to the Dingwall lands before Dunbroch or Alvin would kill me." Or worse, with the Slavemark and all.

"They must have been durable men," Astrid said, "to walk for miles on the frozen sea for days. Four days at the least"

"We are a durable lot," Merida pointed out. "We have to be, to survive the wet winters."

Fishlegs nodded. "Your dad told a third of the army to go to Dunbroch, to take back the frozen men and get them proper care. He put Spitelout in charge of that unit, gave them a white banner. Then he came to parley with Alvin, hoping to show him with the army that he meant business."

That would have worked in the old days, showing up with a formidable formation to establish power during a hostage situation.

"Where is that third of the army?" I asked.

"Guarding the camp. They're taking shifts, keeping an eye on the Outcasts and Hysterics," Fergus answered. "They've had a rough time of it, making necessary amputations and watching men die before their eyes of frostbite. We have a lot of villager casualties when they had done nothing wrong, but the dragon riders have been doing their best to help."

Fergus didn't speak somberly, and it meant something when he did. The boys were sitting on his shoulders, and they tried to force his lips to smile. He tried to shake their small hands.

"I need to talk to Spitelout," I said. "To find out if he wants to take command."

"Even if he does, you're the diplomat here," Lord Macintosh couldn't help but say. "And it's your father who was taken. Not to take it personally, but we trust you to do less damage than other Vikings."

"I'm not the one who would take offense at that," I said coolly. "After all, I'm the only Viking here with some Scottish blood."

No dramatic gasps at that, meaning that the word must have spread among them. That may have also explained Lord Dingwall's silence.

"The good news is that Alvin can't go anywhere, and my dad wouldn't let him use Thornado for anything. The bad news is that Alvin has plenty of hostages, Scottish and Viking, and they have the automatic bola. If we just battled our way toward the villages, he'd slaughter everyone."

"That would be a problem," Tantrum spoke; petulance rolled off the tongue like an elegant poem. Fishlegs clung to her and blushed again.

"Giving myself up isn't an option either, as part of a prisoner exchange," I said, ignoring the gasps that now did arise. "It would have been one thing if the sea hadn't frozen over, but now that it has, and a raid has started, the Hysterics and Outcasts aren't likely to give up their booty to obtain one person."

"If they tried capturing you again, we'd have to fight them to the bloody end," Lord Macintosh said. "Since you are related to the queen."

Wee MacGuffin tried to say something, and Wee Macintosh translated.

"We have to fight them to the bloody end anyway, since their attack on the queen was an insult to the Scottish royal family, and to your honor."

Elinor's eyes narrowed, but she remained tranquil. Not like the men were turning the benches over to brawl.

L_oki wouldn't have let me escape without a reason._ _If things had gone according to Alvin's plan, even with the ice, Alvin would have used me to capture my dad anyway, and then no one could rescue Stoick the Vast from treacherous Vikings._

_ My dad also has Scottish blood, and he's been captured. Which means we have to fight them to the bloody end anyway, wait . . ._

"Oh gods," Astrid said. "You've just thought of something crazy, haven't you? You have that look in your eye."

I locked a gaze with her. "Will Camicazi be able to pick locks with her broken wrist?"

"Are you kidding?"

"It's important, Astrid."

"Probably," Fishlegs said, "given the way she fought Astrid to a standstill on Stormfly-" Astrid's glare made him stammer. "Yes, probably."

"Like I said, it's important," I said. "We have to get the hostages out before initiating any battle. Without any of the Outcasts noticing, because Alvin's used to me doing crazy things to get out of bad situations. Bog Burglars are good at breaking in and out of places, and we only have Camicazi."

"And us," the triplets all spoke at the same time.

"Absolutely not," Elinor said. "It's too dangerous."

They made faces at her.

"We need to find out exactly where they're being kept." I indicated with my fingers on the table. "A map of the villages exactly. Then we need a way to distract Alvin long enough to rescue them."

People were listening, leaning forward. This was good.

"Nothing distracts Alvin more than his ego," Astrid said. "The only thing that would distract him is if he got his hands on-"

Her eyes dawned with realization. So did Merida's. They spoke at the same time.

"Hiccup, _no_."

"We don't have a choice," I said. "I have to offer myself as bait."


	36. Chapter Thirty-Five

**Forever Me- Thank you for that word. :)**

**SpannerSpoon- Sorry for that. I am excited though I fear for Hiccup growing up in Book Eleven, what suffering he'll go through. Rest assured, both Stoick and Thornado are alive, and Thornado feels vengeful.**

**Guest- You got your wish here. :) **

No one liked the plan. Everyone called it terrible, risky, and even stupid. Wee MacGuffin went on an angry ramble that not even his father could understand. Elinor kept shifting her hands from place to place. Astrid didn't like the idea of me as bait, and Astrid had always encouraged me to do crazy schemes. Merida agreed with her, which didn't boost any confidence.

"I'M the one who's most likely to lose his freedom with this endeavor, as opposed to dozens of us dying on the battlefield," I pointed out in the middle of these arguments. "And like I said, we don't have a choice."

The lords wanted to add their two pence, and they kept interrupting each other. A fight would have broken out among them and Fergus if not for Elinor's presence and my ability to project.

The more I outlined each crucial person's role, the less people rejected the plan. The lords listened, with mild reluctance, but they listened. Elinor pressed her lips and asked necessary questions, questions that allowed me to refine certain points.

"You realize that if Alvin even guesses at the undertaking, that he has no reason to take your word for anything. He may kill your father outright."

"I know. But he'll have his eyes on me the whole time. That's essential."

"Are you going to have a trick up your sleeve?"

"I have one. He thinks I'm broken, and he's half-right. I just have to convince him that I'm completely broken and he won't suspect a thing."

That didn't reassure her, but she did stop asking about it. Merida looked concerned but clung to her brothers instead. I went on outlining the details, instructing the lords on their part strongly. We would need one or two days to prepare, at the very least to make a trip to the Dunbroch smithy.

"Why do you say half-broken?" she asked afterward, as we broke to discuss the news with the mostly uninjured members of our army. We walked into the camp shadows, to the outskirts where few could hear us.

"Because I still remember Frigga's Promise, and the attack in the castle." I pointed at my chest, where the bruises were. "I know that people who should have supported me - not you, and not my friends on Berk - stabbed me in the back and almost succeeded in making me a slave. That's not going to stop with this, even when Alvin and the Hysterics are defeated."

She took a moment to answer. Her eyes were watery, not just with cold. Merida was scared for me. She was worried about the Viking cousin she had once called "draugr."

"You're always welcome at the castle, you know. And with my brothers, you'll have a fun family."

"That's assuming I can return to Dunbroch. If the plan works."

"It will. You've thought of everything, including how much can go wrong. But you need to tell her, you know, about being chased the rest of your life. If you want her to stay with you."

"Tell who? Astrid?"

"Certainly not that red-faced angry girl sitting with your giant friend."

"Merida-"

"Hiccup, you don't kiss a girl to death and expect her to understand every wee bit of you," she said. "She doesn't, though she knows most of you. I don't like Astrid, but you do. If she breaks your heart just because a few Viking louts see you as a prize-"

She unsheathed her sword and made a slitting gesture. There was a chaste gap between us because we weren't courting each other, and to ensure we were not THAT close. Even if we had tried, Toothless was watching.

"Good luck with that," I said dryly, refusing to voice the doubts that rose in my head.

"It will be with a sword, not an axe," she promised. "She won't see it coming."

"I'd rather if you didn't. She might think you're jealous."

Merida snorted.

"Hah! Me, jealous! No offense, but I'd rather have a go at that Thuggory fellow. If I were interested in Vikings."

"I'll be sure to pass on the memo," I promised.

She left me there, to help her dad sharpen the arrows, even spar with him a little. I took a while to gather my thoughts, to fight the fear of how badly things could go wrong while feeling astonished that Thuggory's charm attracted Merida. Then we had to make physical progress with the plan's machinations, and I put the princess out of mind.

First and most important was my fencing. I was a natural as Fergus had said, but even naturals had to practice. I hadn't held a blade since the Outcasts had taken me from Dunbroch, and a week of rustiness could make all the difference.

Fergus tested my ability, as did Wee Macintosh. He had thought to pack practice blades after hearing that Elinor had found me, and he had several for me to choose. The other men cleared away a campfire so we could fence, and so I could remind myself how to make the blade spin. The sparring also helped the men calm down, to feel the wind rush past our faces.

"You've still got the skill lad," Fergus grunted. "But skill isn't the only thing, even if you know all the tricks. You have to be able to endure long enough. You need an environment that works to your advantage, and to strike down your opponent slowly."

"You don't say," I panted, feeling sweat mix with the cold. "I'm sure Alvin will let me strike him multiple times and utilize the Dunbroch cobblestones."

He was right, though; I couldn't just hope to cut down Alvin and pray that the rest of the plan would go well. He had Loki's copy of Endeavor, meaning I'd have to wield a foreign blade. I had to draw out the duel as long as possible, without getting tired out and without missing Hamish II's blade.

Still, we overcame that obstacle and I found new things to add to my smithy to-do list. Camicazi's broken wrist was another problem, because she was right-handed and her right wrist had the fracture. As much as she fussed about still being able to pick locks and sneak on her Changewing, her face would cringe every time she attempted to demonstrate her abilities. Like it or not, we couldn't send her in alone.

"But I won't be alone," she protested. "I'll have my dragon with me. We make a good team, as good as an entire army of dragons!"

"Cami," I said in my most reasonable voice. "It's not that we doubt your ability, or your love for danger. But we're trying to make it more dangerous for you, so you can prove yourself. After all, one more person and dragon to look out for while freeing violent hostages."

Her eyes lit up. We were sitting in her tent, watching her display her skills. Her dragon wrapped its tail around my satchel and toyed with it. It batted thick eyelashes at Toothless, who didn't respond.

"Is there any other Academy student who you can teach to pick locks and such? Just the basics?"

"Not any of the BOYS," she said derisively. "Maybe you, but you're not bad for a boy."

"I don't think I'm an option. Which of the girls would you trust then? Which of the academy students?"

"Not your girlfriend." She gave me a cheeky grin. "It's too much fun making her angry."

I gave her a look. Merida, who was listening with fascination, returned the grin to Camicazi.

"Maybe Tantrum O'Ugerly," Camicazi commiserated. "She has quite a lot of potential for an heir to the Uglithugs. May want to use those skills to get away from her Ug-ly father."

"I wouldn't blame any girl whose father is called Ug," I muttered. "So Tantrum. She's going to be your load and sidekick, with her dragon. You need to get her ready, as if she were to join the Bog Burglar tribe and about to take on a perilous burglary."

"Mother says that we're not allowed to steal people." Camicazi gave another wild grin, making her resemble a blond imp. "But she's not here, is she?"

I feared having put an impossible idea in her head. Still, she talked to Fishlegs and Tantrum that evening, and the Uglithug heir showed enough interest to take basic wires and tools for picking chains and shackles. Only thing was that her nails got in the way. Each white tip clicked against the tools, making unnecessary noise.

"Those need to come off." Camicazi pointed to Tantrum, who withdrew her hands protectively. "Not sensible at all when you want to be quiet."

"They're a defense mechanism against the cruelties of the world!" Fishlegs said from where he stood next to me. "Tantrum's father is highly oppressive, and she's not allowed to do many things on her own. Her nails are one of the few ways she can express herself-"

Camicazi turned to face him. Then, with Night Fury speed, she leaped up and slashed with a small blade. With her left hand, or we wouldn't have even seen the slashing, since her movements were clumsy.

The next moment, Fishlegs's trousers had fallen down, and he shrieked. Apparently his winter long johns had pink fish sewn to them.

"That I didn't need to see," I muttered. "Camicazi! Apologize!"

"Only if he apologizes for being rude," she answered, wincing. "I was talking to Tantrum, not to him."

"I apologize on his behalf," Tantrum said in a bored tone. "Can I see that knife?"

Camicazi handed it to her. Tantrum then held it to the girl's throat before transferring it to her nails.

"I'm only doing this because you have trust issues," Tantrum said, paring off each white tip. The nails fell into a pile on her lap. "But embarrass my boyfriend, and I will turn on you. Terribly."

"No boy is worth it. You'd be better off with the Bog Burglars, not needing him," Camicazi declared. She looked happier now that Tantrum had threatened her.

"I do need him, and I want him," Tantrum's face lifted as her eyes met Fishlegs's. "Not many Uglithugs know how to behave the part of a gentleman, let alone construct affectionate poetry."

Fishlegs's ears went red while he picked up the remains of his trousers. Tantrum's gaze held him in the tent, however. Camicazi was satisfied that an older girl was listening to her and practiced at picking locks again.

* * *

That was how things stood by the end of that day: our two burglars had a working relationship that threatened to fray, I had to find enough strength in myself to fence without weeks of preparation, and we hadn't even visited the smithy or bargained with Morgan. If he let us bargain.

Toothless and I still slept outside, wrapped around each other for comfort. The injured needed the tents, and I wanted to enjoy the outside while I could. Astrid and Stormfly joined us once, but there wasn't much privacy in a war camp. Even so, we huddled next to each other under the dragons' wings and on her bundling for a bed. Once, she had punched me for hugging her in the snow, but that seemed like ages ago. When we had been on Berk, in peaceful Devastating Winter.

"Astrid, you know, when we win-"

"Yes?" she murmured, pulling me closer. Red dotted her cheeks in gentle pinpricks.

I couldn't do it. Not when we were days from victory or disaster. I wanted to kiss every bit of red off her face, to taste her warmth and presence. Gods, I had missed her in the day that she had pretended to leave Scotland; I didn't want to let go of her. If I got enslaved, I didn't want our last moments to involve a break-up.

"Nothing," I said. "Just rambling. Good night."

Her eyes fluttered with suspicion, but we were too tired to argue.

I woke when burning smell hit my nose. Dragon nip, roasting by a fire along with damp moss. It made me sit up straight. Astrid kept sleeping against my chest.

Toothless's eyes shot open as I untangled myself from his wings. A small light from the camp's outskirts lit, from a small corner with no tents. Faint, falsetto singing came from there, mingled with the scent of burnt dragon nip.

_Gods, not now_, I thought. Toothless growled at the singing. He tugged at my trousers with only gums, having retracted his teeth for the night.

"I know, bud," I sighed. "But I don't think it's a trap. Loki made us pay for the rescue already. He's just yanking my chain."

He let go of me, with reluctance. My feet seemed to move on their own. They went towards the smell and the singing.

Loki was sitting on a fallen log that had somehow lost its dampness. There was a hole in the log, in which he had started a small fire. It burned orange against the grey, slushy frost.

"Fancy seeing you here, Highness," he said.

"Likewise, son of Odin." I dipped my head.

He patted a seat on the log, on the other side of the burning hole. I walked over despite my misgivings. Not wise to displease a god who had done you a service.

"Don't think I'm here to offer help. I'm merely here to get a good view of the show," he said. "To assess your chances without me. It's going to be a battle of brawny brains versus scrawny brains."

"You'll probably get splendid entertainment," I remarked. "We're not having the duel here; we're going to be moving to a field closer to the coast, where he is with my dad and the hostages."

"He wants to be close to the ocean so that the minute the ice melts, he can take off. Quite daring of him, if I may say so."

The motives I already knew, even though I wouldn't call them "daring". Alvin was expecting to win. He had a valuable bargaining chip, the one person that Berk always needed.

"Why did you wake me, if you wanted to calculate odds?"

He waved his hand over the burning hole. The dragon nip smelled sweetest when it was set on fire.

"I wanted make an offer. If Alvin becomes mortal, I won't have a champion on Midgard. At least, not one as resourceful. I could use a boy like you to be my agent. To carry out organized mischief and subvert the superficial authorities."

I watched the burnt grass crackle in the fire. Innocent green easily became scorched, tainted black.

"You'd be immortal, so that no blade could cut your throat. No fall or dragon fire would kill you. You'd always have my support, both in terms of advice and in terms of planning. I may even help you win this battle, make sure nothing goes wrong with your scheme."

Loki meant well, as best as a god of mischief could mean. He had seen what his champion had done to me, a smaller boy who was smart and still prone to helplessness.

His eyes held no warmth however, though they pretended to. He didn't have to start a fire for an evening chat, but he hadn't needed to burn dragon nip either. And if I were immortal? I could still be a slave like Jason, only the chiefs who wanted to own me weren't as kind as the goddess Frigga.

I didn't need immortality. I needed my plan to work.

"Son of Odin, that is a generous offer, but I cannot honestly accept," I said. "And by 'honestly,' I mean that it would conflict with our previous agreement. Alvin may very well still be immortal even if I were your champion, and the whole point of having this plan is to make him mortal. We would constantly clash, so to speak"

He rolled a burning leaf in his hand. I tried not to cringe from the fire and went on.

"I mean no disrespect. I merely wish to have a fair chance at fighting Alvin and defeating him, even on his terms."

"You speak well when turning down a generous offer," he said, and though disappointed his tone held pride. "Even if you win, he won't give your father, your sword, or the hostages back. That is something you have to consider."

"I've considered it every waking moment, since I read the letter from the messenger hawk. Not like I'm planning to honor all of the honor duel terms."

"Nor should you." He patted the leaf as if it were a furry animal. "Maybe I'll make you my champion when you're not looking, and when you try to die-"

He blew the smoldering remains of the leaf. The redness and black did not die down, however. Neither did the scent.

I gave a wan smile. Typical sense of humor from a Norse God.

He reached over the burning hole and clapped me on the back. I recoiled. That threw off my caution, as I tried not to fall into the bouquet of flames.

"Are you going to help Alvin as well, to even the odds?" I had to ask. "Has he asked for help?"

"He asked how I assisted you," he said, frankly. "After you escaped. He wanted to know if the blade had special properties. I may have told the truth, or I may have lied. What do you think?"

I steadied myself on the log.

"If he knew how exactly you were going to stop him, he wouldn't be open for negotiation, would he? He'd be trying to tear the small bonds you've formed between the Vikings and Scots. Like he helped tear you away from Berk."

That seemed to be logical reasoning. But even the soundest logic could have sharp twists among basic statements. And Loki hadn't confirmed that he had denied help to Alvin. Perhaps he played with both of us to produce the most violent result.

Loki stood up, beckoned that I could stand up as well. The embers in the log's hole died, replacing the heat with evening chill. Wind mixed with the nip, and his wicked grin returned.

"Just put on a good show. For Alvin, and for myself. Then maybe I'll assist you with the battle."

He withdrew into the trees' shadows, and I found myself stumbling back to camp, to a worried Toothless and sleeping Astrid.

"Good luck, Highness," Loki called to my retreating figure. When I turned to wave my thanks, he tried to give a mischievous grin, to show that he was joking. But the shadows darkened his face, so that only his eyes shone. And they were full of sincerity, if not warmth.

Loki may not have been offering help, but he wanted me to win. He was on my side.


	37. Chapter Thirty-Six

**Sorry for missing an update! We're catching up to the Deviantart updates, and I update Dragon Prince on Deviantart once a week. There will be a new chapter tomorrow as well.**

Before we set off for the field where Alvin and his men camped, Camicazi and I made one last dragon flight. She rode on her Changewing, while I rode on Toothless. Not alone, however.

"Where are you headed?" Merida had asked. She had come out of her tent, yawning, as I saddled Toothless. Camicazi had dressed herself in black, so that she was like a sword-wielding shadow except for the splint around her right wrist. Her blade had danced as she tested my mettle, just probing, with her left hand. She wouldn't dare use her right.

"Dunbroch," I had said, saddling up Toothless. "To use the smithy."

"At this hour?" She had gestured at the night sky. "You need your rest for the next few days."

"Bog Burglars don't need sleep," Camicazi had replied. "We're more terrifying when we're tired."

"I need to get these practice swords sharpened." I had taken out the blades that Fergus had brought. "Since I don't have a proper one for the duel. And I need to make something for Toothless. Something really important."

"You're going to use a practice sword?" Merida had asked incredulously.

"The regular ones are too heavy for me, and Alvin will think I'm desperate. Which I am." My throat tightened. "It also means I have to do a lot of weapons repair when I'm done. To pay back Morgan."

She had stood for a moment, still wearing her green dress and cloak. Perhaps she hadn't undressed for the night knowing what I was going to do, or it had been chance.

"I'm going with you. Morgan is more likely to help if I'm there."

"It's not proper," I had protested. "Astrid isn't coming with us-"

"Then we'll bring the boys to make it proper."

As if by magic, three furry figures had appeared by her side. They had viewed Camicazi's black outfit with interest, and she had grinned with scorn.

"Boys. How droll."

"It seems I'm outnumbered," I had said ruefully. "Please tell me you'll leave a note with your mother, telling you where we've gone."

"She knows we're going to Dunbroch. I told her."

"You have."

"Word of honor, Hiccup. I don't want to worry her again, not after what I put her through." She had looked sincere in her green dress and cloak, ready to leave without asking what I was planning.

"We'll also need a white banner. For Camicazi's dragon," I had said.

"They won't see me coming." Camicazi had grinned. "I'm riding a Changewing!"

She had nailed a point there, and there hadn't been time to get a white banner anyway.

The weather cooperated, offering large cloud cover but very little snow. Toothless gritted his teeth against the wind but carried on. I held Hubert in my lap and protected him from the windburn; Merida had her remaining brothers on her lap. She also had her bow and her eyes, which she used to scan the ground. We were being cautious, and even Camicazi knew better than to make her dragon flip. Not that her fingers and feet weren't itching to do so; I could sense her twitching against the cold.

In time, her Changewing disappeared. It was eerie to see her floating in the air, riding nothing and holding back her Burglar war cry. Her black outfit made her stand out like a hyperactive shadow on the cloud cover.

"You may want to fix that disguise," Merida shouted by way of banter. "It's not something meant for the winter."

"It's meant for BURGLING," Camicazi shouted back. Nevertheless, she didn't grin.

When Merida spotted Dunbroch through a hole in the clouds, we observed its guard. Most of the sentinels were sleeping or huddling around small fires. Not exactly a vote of confidence, but Fergus had left the castle because he was confident of holding off Alvin's guard and keeping them confined to the coast.

"I know a secret way in," Merida whispered. "Let's land, slowly. Then they won't notice us."

I followed her directions, landing Toothless near a small opening. Still the guards didn't notice. They kept their sleepy watch by the campfires. Camicazi and her invisible dragon followed, and now she blended in better. Still, her black was conspicuous. It would have worked better on an island setting, or hiding into a building's shadows.

Merida indicated the opening. She mouthed "secret passage," and the boys nodded. The door was broken, but Merida recognized it. She ignored the torn hinges and led the way for us. We walked down a long, dark and dirty tunnel, but one that had been used recently. Mold froze on the walls, though there was faint dripping. Toothless and the invisible Changewing followed.

"Does anyone else know about this passage?" I whispered.

"Only Mum."

"Could Outcasts find out about it?"

"Yes." Her voice gained a sharp edge. "But we'd know if they were using it. For starters, there'd be more footprints."

She was right. Only a few bear tracks and paw prints were left in the tunnel, and the mold had filled them. Toothless had to squeeze tightly to fit, and several times he almost got stuck. The Changewing had a better time of it despite having a larger body. It was amazing that we barely made any noise despite our entourage. Tension ran through the lot of us, even the triplets.

We reached the end of the tunnel, which had a lighted opening above us. Merida climbed onto Toothless and pulled herself out, and then she reached for her brothers. They made a chain and burst out.

Camicazi's cheeks were bursting with all the chatter she wanted to bestow on us, but she held herself together as we went to the smithy, whose steps went downward. The light was on, and we heard the sound of a hammer banging against steel.

"He's awake," I said. "He had to be awake."

"Good thing I came along," Merida snorted. "Boys, keep a guard outside. If there are Outcast spies, find them and DESTROY them. Make Mum proud."

Camicazi's eyes lit up. The boys looked too eager to carry out this order. Hubert took a position at the opening while his brothers disappeared.

Merida banged her way through. Morgan looked up from his work as we walked in.

"Oh! Are we getting weapons! I love sharp weapons. A Bog Burglar could get used to a castle with secret passages! Do you know all the passages, Princess? Could I stay here and burgle to my heart's delight, oh please please please?!"

Morgan took in Camicazi with her dirty blond hair, black outfit, and twitchy fingers. She barely came up to his waist, and she was obviously Viking. Then he looked to me.

"I need the smithy for a couple of hours," I said. "And I need to take a loan on all my credits. It's an emergency."

He turned his gaze to me. I rubbed snow out of my hair, feeling grubby and tiny. Morgan had a way of doing that. Nevertheless, I kept talking, taking out the swords I had packed onto Toothless's back.

"I need to make a new tail for Toothless and hoods for him and my friend's dragon. I also need to sharpen these practice blades. It's so we can rescue the hostages in Dingwall territory, Scottish and Viking. Afterward, I'll work day and night in your smithy until the credits are paid off, even if it takes till the summer-"

Merida raised her hand. She gave me a light slap on the back of my neck. Her hands were numb from the cold, so I didn't feel it.

She slapped me again, this time harder. I stopped talking and turned to her in outrage.

"What was that for? Only Astrid can hit me!"

"Hiccup, you're a prince now," she said. Her hand was red with frost. "You don't owe Morgan extra work. If anything, he should be working for YOU."

"Thank you, Princess. I couldn't have said it better," Morgan sighed. He ran a hand through his balding hair. "To be honest, work hasn't been the same without you, Highness. Not just because I miss having a smaller load. "

I looked at him. "Nothing has changed. I'm still the same smart-mouthed apprentice."

"No, you're not," he said flatly. "You need those blades sharpened?"

Before I could protest, he yanked all three out my hands and poured them onto his anvil.

"I have more experience with this. You Vikings are more likely to hone it to the point of breaking, and you want these blades to last for a couple of hours at the least. Go on," he indicated at Toothless. "You left your papers here."

"My . . ." I felt myself blush as I saw a corner of neatly stacked papers. "Did you read them?"

"I don't read." He attempted a grin at Merida before turning back to me. "Get to work, highness. You don't have all night."

_I don't. But gods, what if the Outcasts had raided this smithy as well? They would have gotten the plans for the hood, maybe for more! Gods, I never learn!_

I grabbed the papers, sifted through them to find the design for the hood. Then I stripped off my cloak and tunic, grabbed leather and metal and started to work. Toothless's hood was easier the second time around, and I only needed to take measurements.

"Do NOT let this come off," I ordered Camicazi. "It may be the one thing that saves your dragon from nip."

She looked up from where the boys had brought her stolen cakes and fruits. She giggled and took them, patting them on the head.

"Thing is that your mask is visible," she pointed out. "And my dragon is supposed to be INVISIBLE."

She had a point. I wiped my sweaty face and thought.

"Could we make it using Changewing scales?"

Her dragon responded by covering itself with its wings. Camicazi went to speak to her reasonably, scratching it under the chin. The dragon went limp with a loud thump. Then she came back, and her hands were laden with scales. At least, one hand was; the one with the splint kept dropping them.

"They shed easily," she said above the clatter of crashing scales. "You just have to know where to peel."

Even with the scales, we still had to attach them together, and then we found that they only turned invisible when they were touching her dragon, if her dragon wished to turn invisible. This we learned after the Changewing- whose name was Stealth- woke up from her chin-scratching nap. Merida grabbed my plans took over the sewing, pushing me toward the bellows.

"You only have one pair of hands, and you need to use them for your dragon," she said. Toothless backed her up by getting between us.

"Hold still, bud," I said. "Don't give me that look; I need to modify your tail-fin."

He eyed my face, as if detecting a lie.

"Toothless, I'll let her design the mask for dragon nip. But you need to be able to fly without me, at least for a short while."

He lay down and let me remove the artificial tail-fin. It had suffered wear and tear from our time in Scotland, though the cloth remained intact. No one looked at the Berk skull these days, though slush had blackened the red and white fabric. It seemed so long ago that I had first made the prototype with simple leather and connecting rods.

_It was a long time ago. When you first discovered that dragons weren't dangerous._

_And when I was a proper Viking._

_You weren't proper back then. You grew into the role, and now you've grown out of it. Because the other Vikings didn't want you._

Fortunately, examining the tail-fin and determining where to add gears left no room for pondering. I had made so many versions, so many to replace each one and to improve on them, that they were burned into my brain. I even remembered the Snoggletog gift that I had made for Toothless; the one he had smashed into the snow after realizing how much we needed each other.

I collected metal, tools and paper on which to draw. The trick was in planning, so as to save time. We only had so much time and energy before those at the camp would miss us.

Merida fitted two scales together, making the red pieces fit like a jigsaw puzzle. Once she had a length of dragon-skin, she looked at the plans I had made and followed them. For all her claims at being the best fighter in Dunbroch, she seemed to also be the best seamstress. After Camicazi tried to offer help, forgetting about her broken wrist, Merida seemed to gain confidence and sew faster.

The triplets kept their watch, bringing sweets for us. Morgan dipped the sharpened swords into the cooling barrel. Toothless's eyes were on the gears as I tested them out, demonstrated the automatic setting to him and Merida. Then he lay down so that I could reattach the tail-fin. That took more time as I demonstrated to Merida how to do that exactly.

"See, normally I'd just go out and make a new tail, but we don't have the time and material for it. Not with the gears that this one requires. But with this setting," I demonstrated, showing how the fin opened and closed with Toothless's remaining flap, "it means that you'll be able to ride him without needing to steer. You can fire your arrows from a higher altitude and gain more power behind them."

Toothless didn't like the weight; he eyed the modified contraption with suspicion, as if it would cause him to sink. Then again, he hadn't liked the automatic tail-fin either, thinking I had attached a leaden weight to his behind. His spinning made Camicazi giggle. The Changewing poked it with one wing, testing the fabric.

"Why didn't you make this a week ago, when you were last in the smithy?" she asked. "We could have found you faster when Alvin's men grabbed you."

"That's what I was wondering." Morgan presented the blades to me, having dried them on one of the aprons.

"More likely Alvin would have caught you, because I wouldn't have been able to protect Toothless from the dragon nip." I tested out each practice blade by swinging them. A bit light for my fancy, and more like to snap if the frost made them brittle, but they would do the job. I hoped.

"You could have made both the mask and these modifications."

"Not with the credits I had on me," I said. "I didn't want to leave Toothless vulnerable to dragon nip, so I chose to make the mask first."

She rolled her eyes at me. Morgan shrugged to indicate that yes, a week ago I hadn't had enough credits.

Toothless went out, testing to see how he could fly with the tail-fin. It opened up well enough, but he couldn't manage sharp twists and turns. The automatic gear would need work. I called him back, wiped off the frost that had gathered between the different metal pieces.

"You and Toothless need to practice," I told Merida. "To make sure that you can fly AND shoot well. And don't bring the boys with you; your mother will have my head on a pike if they end up in danger."

"What if I need them?" she asked innocently. "They're good at getting into and out of places, as you can tell."

I watched as Hubert came to us with some cream cakes, cheeks bulging with pastry. He looked so innocent despite the cream that had rubbed into his hair. So did his brothers when they bestowed stolen trays and even small knives.

They had brought enough food to feed a garrison, if garrisons lived off cakes and pies. And they had been kind enough to bring most of it for their sister and Camicazi. I kept turning the sweets down because a pot of tea would have done better at keeping me awake and my energy was flagging.

"I'd prefer it if they caused trouble here at Dunbroch than on the battlefield," I said. "Alvin's going to be expecting Toothless to show up and the kingdom's heirs are much more valuable than a diplomat who happens to have Scottish blood."

"Why don't I see if I can convince them to not come first?" She grabbed Hubert to clean the cream off his face. "After all, I am the eldest."

He gave her a cheeky grin and squirmed in her arms.

"Not bad for boys," Camicazi remarked from where she attached the mask to her dragon. Mischievous thoughts rolled across her face.

"Toothless, don't let these boys mount you," I ordered. "And remember, you have to rescue my dad first once the hostages are free. My dad before me."

Toothless gave me another look, curving his neck around to meet my gaze.

"It's not like it was last time. I have a plan." _Which feels and less certainly to succeed the closer we got to actually carrying it out. _"I need you to do your part, so we don't have to worry about hostages or the automatic bola. Be the unholy offspring of lightning and death that once took out all our catapults. Trust Merida, because if things go wrong, you have to stay at Dunbroch. Merida and the boys need to be your new riders, and Morgan your new smith."

He gave me a wild, wide-eyed expression at that. Merida almost mirrored it, as did the boys. Even Camicazi looked surprised if not shocked.

"Nothing terrible will go wrong," she said. "You're the Dragon Conqueror, the one who freed the archipelago from The Red Death. Most BOYS can't claim to have done that."

"Most of that credit goes to Toothless, who blew fire at the right moments," I said. My dragon purred with pride. "But this is important, on the off-chance that the gods decide to strike us down in our moment of truth." _Or if I failed to put on a good show._

I turned back to my dragon. He looked mournful and defiant. I had explained this part to him so many times, why we had to be separate for a couple of hours, but that didn't make either of us like it better.

I wrapped my arms around his neck. He gave a mournful croon and nuzzled my chest with his snout. His scales felt warm despite the winter, and I could tell he wanted to wrap me in his wings like he had for the past couple of days

"Toothless, you know why you need to stay with Merida. Like I said, you need to practice working with her, to time the arrow and fireballs precisely. And whatever you do, _rescue my dad first_."

He shut his eyes to the idea. I sensed he was about to pounce and pin me to the ground, to keep me from leaving.

"Promise me, bud. Then you can fire-bomb Alvin as much as you like."

He gave a grudging warble. I patted his neck, hugging him tightly.

"Thanks bud."

Merida drew in her lips as I disentangled myself from the blue and black scales. She would have hugged me, no doubt, but it was hard enough as it was. Snow started to fall again, and Camicazi mounted her dragon.

"Let's go, Hiccup. We march in the morning, and I need to pick up Tantrum."

I turned to Merida.

"Go," she said. "We have a Night Fury protecting us. Besides, this is our home. And yours."

_Home. In Scottish territory. If I fail._

Instead of a hug, I took both her hands, which were still ruddy red. I held them as tightly as I could. She smiled at the gesture, and grinned when the boys tackled my legs. They obviously didn't want me to leave either. It was like having miniature bear hugs.

"See you tomorrow," I told the four of them, including the three below me. "If you can't stay away from battle, at least give the Outcasts trouble. Lots of trouble."

The boys let go, Hubert sniffling a bit. I released Merida's hands, took Camicazi's uninjured wrist and let her pull me onto the Changewing's back. It surveyed me as Toothless gave another mournful croon.

Morgan watched us. I couldn't fathom the expression in his eyes, what emotions were frothing into a terrible mixture. Definitely disgust for Camicazi and respect for the princess, but for me? It may have been pity, seeing how I rode an invisible dragon that wasn't mine.

It may have also been pride, for finally acting like a Scot.


	38. Chapter Thirty-Seven

We made good time flying back, helped by the clouds that refused to shed snow on us. I wrapped my cloak tightly around myself and the small bundle that I carried.

Camicazi tried to chat, to make up for her silence, but even she sensed the premonitions that every passing minute brought. Her blond hair fluttered in the wind, though she held on tightly to her Changewing's mask and her dragon.

"You know," I said, in a gap of silence, "it's a shame you and the other riders came when I had to leave. I would have liked teaching you. Teaching all of you."

"Maybe," she said. "I would have had to steal from you because you're a boy."

That made me laugh, despite the cold wind. I would have preferred having a girl pick my pocket for days on end to exile in Scotland and Alvin's pursuit. Camicazi started to laugh as well.

"I wish you had been there the day I had taken Stormfly. You would have seen Astrid when she was so angry!"

"Then I would have had to placate her and stop you," I said, though the smile wouldn't leave my face.

"You? Stop me? Ha! You may be a Dragon Conqueror, but you could never conquer the Bog Burglar heir!"

"Famous last words," I grinned. "This Dragon Conqueror had picked up quite a few fencing skills."

"Wait till you fence with a Bog, _boy_! We know how to use swords to steal your underpants while wearing them!"

By the time we landed, we were both in hysterics. It may have been the sleep deprivation, the thrill of riding through frost, what the dawn would bring, and the stories that we were sharing. In any case, we were loud enough to frighten the guards, who sighed in relief in relief as they saw it was me. Elinor came out of her tent, wearing a thick dressing gown that looked elegant enough for battle.

"Where are Merida and the boys?" Elinor asked.

"With Toothless and Morgan at Dunbroch," I said. "I trust Toothless to protect them, and Morgan's going to help fashion enough arrowheads for Merida to wipe out the whole Outcast army."

She looked me over as I rubbed frost off my hair and showed her the practice blades. Fergus's snores made their tent rattle.

"And the boys?"

"They're a loose card," I admitted. "I told them to stay in Dunbroch, but Merida insisted that they come. They'll be able to help her out if the automatic bola snags them."

Elinor didn't look happy about that, but there was nothing to be done. Besides, it wasn't like the boys were useless in battle, and she knew that. They'd be safest with their big sister and a protective Night Fury.

Astrid also came, shaking her head as she saw me shiver. She had her blanket wrapped around her, so that her body was enveloped in thick fur. She looked beautiful, mysterious and cross.

"It was part of the plan," I told her. "I would have sneaked into Spitelout's camp to see how everyone was, but I didn't want to attract attention. Not with this weather. Merida invited herself along with me and Camicazi."

She touched my reddened cheeks, one at a time. She frowned on feeling how rubbery the skin was.

"You need to get some sleep. We march in four hours."

To emphasize that point, she grabbed me and marched me to a spare tent. Her grip hurt, one hand clamped to my shoulder.

"Some Dragon Conqueror," Camicazi called after us. "Can't be impressive with a girlfriend like that around."

Astrid flipped her hand at Cami in what seemed to be a rude gesture. It had to be a Viking gesture, since none of the Scots gasped. Then she resumed her lecture.

"And you're NOT sleeping outside by yourself, without your dragon."

"We have your dragon, Astrid."

"If I have to tie you up, I will."

I shivered at the thought of being tied up and forced to sleep. Astrid seemed to realize.

"That wasn't called for," she said. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." I smiled to hide my fear. "I AM very tired."

Stormfly waited outside the tent, her wings folded. Astrid patted her on the snout, to show that she meant well.

We crept in, with Stormfly following us. No one shouted insults after us or nodded knowingly. The guards looked at Stormfly with trepidation.

The tent had standing room, if not much else. We undressed without averting our eyes. I left the cloak to hang from a stray nail, and Astrid stripped off her armor. We didn't say anything, but not out of argument. She pulled on one of my oversized Scottish nightshirts and tossed one for me to wear. When I struggled with slipping my head through the excess silk, she helped by finding my hair.

Even within the Scottish tent she still had her Viking bedding. Her bedroll gathered beneath our feet, felt furrier when we kicked off our boots. Stormfly swept the shoes away with her tail. We lay together, my fingers clinging to her warm arms and comforting hands. Her axe lay beside us, and she lay facing the tent opening. She was taking no chances.

Privacy, something not often received in war camp. I pulled her closer, lips to her eyebrows. She had never felt warmer than when wearing my softest clothes. In time, she started kissing back, tasting every bit of exposed flesh. Her form relaxed into mine.

Stormfly gave a disgusted squawk. No matter. The last hours to dawn belonged to us, and I'd treasure each moment.

* * *

Dawn came. Astrid woke me up gently, by pressing her fingers against my eyebrows. I crinkled my forehead in response. She pressed harder, making circles with her thumbs.

My eyes shot open, and I sat up. The yak hair blanket took a while to fall off, since it was heavy fur. This was a good thing, since I wasn't wearing my nightshirt.

"It's time," she said softly. The softness hid the quaver in her voice, the fear that suddenly tinged the space between us.

"It's time," I repeated. My voice held no fear or anticipation. Only acceptance. Still, my hands shook as I rested them on the blanket.

Astrid reached for a shirt- hers or mine, I didn't know- and stumbled outside the tent. There were a few jibes that she ignored. She came back with a bundle of clothes. The stitches on them were new, as if the tailors had stayed up till late the night before straightening out the seams. Which they probably were.

"You're going to look ridiculous," she said.

"That's the idea." I gave a light kiss on her nose before shooing her out. Astrid had seen me naked before, but I didn't want her criticizing my wardrobe for the day. We had enough problems to worry about.

Before the actual duel, I had to look the part of a nervous Viking pretending to be a Scottish prince. Elinor had made over one of Fergus's old shirts so that I could wear it during a duel; she and Maudie sewed the extra parts that I requested. The extra parts made the shirt less baggy, but it still came down to my knees. Elinor added slits so that the bagginess wouldn't weigh me down.

The first practice sword clipped to my waist; the scabbard was new, but the belt was too large. The other two I packed in the right places, so that they wouldn't interfere but would come in handy at the right time.

Morgan had warned that the blade wouldn't last long if it received too many blows. They were old, and the sharpening may have weakened their strength. As long as I kept thrusting the sharp end to Alvin, however, I'd have a few hours. Maybe.

That should have been enough, looking the part, but Elinor insisted on straightening me out as well. She came to my tent just as I had come out, wrapping the cloak around me.

"You look untidy," she said.

"I'm supposed to be," I tried to protest.

Elinor didn't listen. Without Merida, she needed to straighten one of her kid's clothes, or the Viking equivalent. No unfastened collar or misplaced button missed her eye. She combed my hair, running the metal teeth at least half a dozen times through my bangs, and wiped a cloth of cold water across my face. I spluttered at the last one as grime came off.

"Much better," she said with approval. "Is your back straight?"

"It has to be," I said with no small irritation. "I'm not exactly going to slump for this."

She tapped my on the cheek firmly.

"No sarcasm now, Hiccup. It's not the right occasion."

Astrid came over, her bedding rolled up in her arms. She stopped when she saw me, Stormfly nearly crashing into her.

"I know, I look ridiculous," I shrugged. "But like I said, it's the idea."

She shook her head. Her bangs looked messy, so she brushed them back. The bedding looked heavy.

"What is it, Astrid?"

"You look good," she said. "Like you're the same Hiccup who took down the Green Death and tricked Alvin the first time, only grown up. Stronger."

"How he should look," Elinor agreed.

"We'll see if I'm strong enough," I responded, but my back straightened on hearing them agree.

"I'm going to go find Spitelout and gather the army," Astrid said. "Like we planned."

"Remember, don't attack until you get the signal," I told her. "We don't know how many bolas the Outcasts and Hysterics have-"

She pressed a finger to my lips.

"Let me do my part, Highness. That's why I'm your humble servant."

"Not you too!" I protested, but she removed the finger with a smile.

"I'm kidding, Hiccup. Just kick him in the rear. Hard."

"That wasn't funny."

She gave me a quick peck. Then she mounted her dragon.

"Aren't you going to stay for a meal?" Elinor asked. Astrid shook her head.

"We don't know if the clouds will clear, and the idea is to remain covert," she said. As she rose, she shouted one last thing, "Hiccup, PLEASE be careful! And crazy!"

I watched the Nadder soar into the clouds, fading like a puff of blue smoke. I had to watch, to make sure Astrid was leaving this time and not doubling back. Any signs of her return meant she didn't trust me,

No one made light talk over the morning meal. Wee MacGuffin tried, but since Wee Macintosh had to translate, the banter was slow. Elinor went over battle points with her husband the lords while emphasizing that no one was to attack. Camicazi and Tantrum listened to their role, and Camicazi grinned when being told to make sure not one Outcast or Hysteric raised the alarm. She was wearing her burglary outfit, though this time with a white, hooded cloak, sewn from one of the peace banners. She must have taken Merida's advice to heart. Tantrum had an identical outfit, though no amount of white would hide her red face.

"We ARE going to show that we are formidable," Elinor said, demonstrating with a fork over a map. "But we have to demonstrate it as a whole. As a united front."

"Only we can't appear united at first," I replied. "Not until it's absolutely necessary. I have to appear alone, the way I was when I came here."

"You weren't alone," she responded, squeezing my hand. "You never were."

I blinked, thinking back to that first meeting in the dark. How hostile Dunbroch had seemed to Toothless and me. How Elinor had seen me having nightmares.

There was not much more to say after that. Camicazi and Tantrum left, their

cloaks making them resemble wraiths. I sent them a prayer for luck and a reminder for Camicazi to liberate hostages efficiently and speedily. The other riders who could fight also took to the air, towards Spitelout's camp near Dunbroch. That included Thuggory, Fishlegs and the twins, since we needed as many Zipplebacks as possible. Snotlout was still bedridden with fever, and Hookfang wouldn't ride with anyone else.

"I'm not really used to this," Fishlegs said nervously. "Doing your crazy plan without you flying with us."

"You'll get used to it," I said. "You're the guy who managed to stop an army of Changewings, from what I've heard, and landed a chief's daughter as a girlfriend."

He couldn't help but smile at those two compliments.

"Can you believe only several months ago you were leaping off our dragons, using yourself as bait? That we played a game of Mjollnir in the Middle with you as Thor's hammer?"

"I can," I said. The memory of Fishlegs's panic and my dad showing up and accusing me of being addicted to cheap thrills was strong, as was the shock when we had found dead bodies on the beach, as a result of the land battle.

Fishlegs seemed to recall that as well, because he swallowed.

"Spitelout was right that day," I said. "If someone is asking to fight, you have to be willing to defend yourself. Even if it causes you to question your morals."

"That's the hardest thing about being a chief in wartime," Thuggory added from where he mounted his green Gronckle. "Having to make those difficult decisions. It's easier when you know your enemies aren't human."

Now came our turn to leave, just as the cloud cover broke into morning. Most of the clans gathered their armies ready to match. A small group of guards remained for the sick and injured, Viking and Scottish sentinels alike. Elinor gave me a gentle mare to ride, just for a couple of hours, before sending one last messenger hawk to the camps that Alvin had taken hostage.

The mare did her best, since she took even steps on the slippery snow and slush piles, but I hated every minute of straddling her. It reminded me of what I was about to do, of how dragon scales felt more soothing than brown hair and flanks, that Toothless wasn't with me. The only thing I didn't hate was keeping my back straight. It's what I had to do.

The cloud cover had trouble making up its mind whether to stay or leave, though it let no snow fall on us. Heavy winds alerted us to the sea's presence, and the hawk kept flying back and forth, heading for the queen. It knew better than to land on her arm, heading for Fergus. He would read the notes, and she'd write responses. As we went on, her frowns lasted longer.

The frozen coast appeared in the distance, coated in hostile sheets of ice. We stopped when we saw a company waiting for us. Outcasts, dressed to the nines in their best Viking armor. Many held bludgeons, while still more wielded battle axes.

_Of course_, I thought._ They brought my dad out to rub it in. To throw me off even with the terms I set._

He was alive, and only his face looked injured. There were numerous gashes, and his beard was dotted with dried blood. His hands were bound behind him. Two men had to hold him back when he saw me, called my name despite the blade at his throat. His voice still echoed over the landscape, as did his desperation.

"I'm all right!" I called back to him. He didn't seem to hear, injured and panicked.

_Dad, trust me. I have a plan._

Alvin walked towards us, as if he didn't care about the army behind us. Endeavor was clipped to his belt, along with his usual blade.

"Where's your dragon?" he asked. I didn't have to pretend to cringe.

"Away. I didn't want him captured again."

His beady eyes shot to the skies above us, where a few clouds resided. Then he looked back.

"Any tricks, boy, and you'll know what I'll do. Not just to your dad."

Several of his men brought out several automatic bolas. The wheels squeaked in the slush. I gave a visible wince and suppressed the threatening sarcastic remark.

_You couldn't have stolen something less practical when you took my dragon? You know, like the saddle models? _

Seeing my wild look, Alvin went on. He was enjoying having this much power.

"I received that interesting challenge, a sort of honor duel with only swords. Why should I agree to that?"

"Because by attacking me and my dad, you've threatened the honor of Clan Dunbroch," I said. "We have Scottish blood in us related to the clan. In addition, you threatened the queen, who is my distant relative."

There were a few exchanged looks among the Outcasts, as if this were news to them. They looked more nervous about the army on hearing this.

"There's no proof, except that sword hanging off your belt and a tapestry in the castle," my voice became louder, "but the queen knows, and so does her army. It would be a bloodbath if we had a straight-up battle, however. An honor duel would settle the matter and preserve more lives, including the lives of those you've taken hostage."

Alvin's men muttered some more on hearing this. He turned back to shoot them a glare.

"The queen sent you the terms. In addition to disarming his opponent, one of us must strike at the neck." I indicated with my finger. "It shouldn't be lethal, of course, since you want to take me alive."

Dad's bloodshot eyes went wild. He looked at my skinny neck before flaring at Alvin's thick blade. It was obvious what he was thinking.

"If I win, you'll release my dad and all the hostages, as well as any resources and treasures you've stolen. After a spell in the Dunbroch prisons, you'll be allowed to leave when the ice melts, along with the Hysterics, without booty for your raid or your weapons. That is a merciful fate."

If the twins had been there, they would have found the word "booty" hilarious. I hoped that Spitelout and Thuggory could keep them in control before they had to go crazy.

"Done," Alvin drawled; he had agreed too quickly, which meant he was lying. "And what exactly do I get if I manage to disarm you?"

I took a deep breath and let my shoulders slump, despite what I had told Elinor earlier. He was waving the cursed paper with the terms, making me recite my death sentence. It was a good thing that Elinor had been teaching herself to write with runes, or we would have needed translators.

"If I lose, I'll go with you. Willingly. No Scot will chase you, and no dragon will either. I'll let you put the Slavemark on me and will never rebel or say anything sarcastic." I tried to ignore my father's gasp. "And I'll train dragons for you, and for any tribe that owns me."

Dad's face turned pale, even as he cringed in pain. He mouthed something at me, but the words wouldn't come out. Just as well; he didn't need a cuff from the man holding him. Or his throat slashed.

Alvin smirked. He waved the paper again. "Don't forget that you're not the only one that matters. Everyone we have hostage will come with us when you lose. Everyone."

"_If_ I lose," I whispered quietly, keeping my eyes to the ground.

Elinor gave a visible, tranquil glare. But she gave the signal for the army to retreat, leaving a space.

It was time. And I wasn't ready.


	39. Chapter Thirty-Eight

**Spannerspoon- Last cliffie for How to Court a Dragon Prince, I promise. We're near the end of the story here. Thornado is safe, but he wants to protect his rider at all costs.**

**Thanks! Tantrum has only appeared in one HTTYD book, and she never gets an opportunity to shine, other than praise Fishlegs on his poetry. I hope Cressida Cowell does more with her character.**

**He didn't tell Astrid because it wasn't a good time. Not exactly ideal to have a break-up right before carrying off a complicated, risky plan. Also because he couldn't do it to her with the circumstance's direness. But he will find out what she thinks about him always being pursued.**

The wind bit at our faces. I tried to wrap part of my cloak around my shoulders, but it was hard to do so with one hand holding a blade. Dad tried to struggle past the blade at his throat, probably to rip me from Alvin and shake some sense into me. His captors had a strong grip, which was perhaps for the best. I didn't need a dead father on my heads.

Alvin and I circled each other, swords drawn. The ground was slippery, though my prosthetic bit into the grey snow, offering some grounding. I kept my body at an angle, watching his firm steps. His eyes held mocking as he beheld the unfamiliar blade.

"A practice sword? Couldn't lift a proper one?" he jeered. Endeavor gleamed from his belt, a visual taunt.

_If not for the immortality, I'd burn you to a crisp with Toothless's fireballs_, I thought. _But as it were . . ._

He interrupted my train of thoughts with a sudden jab. Right shoulder attack. I blocked automatically and lost my stance. The straight, stiff back didn't help. Fergus groaned from behind, from miles away.

_Calm, Hiccup. Slippery terrain, regroup. Get some distance._

My feet stumbled backward. The prosthetic got stuck in the snow. Alvin rushed forward, seeing his chance. If not for the frozen mud, which slowed him down, I would have found myself on the ground without having landed a single blow. I ripped my prosthetic out and circled around.

"You honestly think we Vikings are all smashing 'em in the head types?" he commented, as if reading my thoughts. "Got some mighty fine airs that won't save your dad."

I steadied my sword, tried not to show the shock coursing through my limbs. He knew how to fence, how to break through the Scottish tricks I had learned. What's more, he knew how to use body mass to his advantage when fencing. He used his large arm and long blade to create a sizable safety zone for himself, a gap between the two of us. If I attempted thrusts at his chest, he could easily block them without moving an inch. But any sword swing from him would leave a nick on me.

_Gods. I did not think of this when making my plan. _

"Hiccup, your lessons!" Fergus called. "Get back into stance!"

My body obeyed, feet and all. This was just another training session, minus the blindfold.

"You stay out of this!" Alvin called to the king. I wanted to yell in Fergus's defense but steadied myself.

_No time for sarcasm. I don't need to win. I only need to delay._

My face went rigid. I became a stiff dancer, focusing on my feet, and on Alvin's. Back straight and stiff, so my legs had to do most of the movement.

The Outcasts murmured uneasily. The Scottish army stirred, not liking their king offended. Still, no one charged. Everyone watched, eyes focused on the blades.

I didn't have time to focus on that as Alvin launched his offensive. Sharp, crisp clangs filled the air as he whittled my strokes down to pathetic flickers of steel. Had to admit, he knew how to break a defense in minutes. The best dancers couldn't work well with limited floor space, let alone slippery stretches of floor space.

"So much for your talent." He gave a horrid grin as the flat part of his blade hit my left palm. The practice sword slipped to the ground with a wet thud. Before I could process being disarmed, Alvin's blade struck me in the face. I reeled from the blow and felt the sharp tip at my throat.

Dad gave a half-moan, half-scream. Several of the Scots shouted "Unfair!" from behind. Elinor gave orders, though whether to quell the men who wanted to charge or incite them, I couldn't tell. Not that they'd reach in time.

_Camicazi, any time now would be good. _

"You lose," Alvin grinned. The fingers on my right hand fumbled through straps. His sword came down, ready to make several incisions into my neck.

CLANG!

Alvin stared for a moment. He stared at the second blade that had appeared in my right hand. A blade that I had strapped to my back, that Morgan had sharpened the night before, prepared for this particular purpose.

"Not yet," I grunted, fumbling for the other blade. I wasn't right-handed but at least able to deliver a surprise slash. Before Alvin could jab and thrust further, I used the blade in my right hand to cut at his knees. He back by instinct, wasting precious seconds. At least, he wasted those seconds. I used them to sail the blade in my left hand toward his waist. Metal cut through the leather belt, so that the scabbards attached to it fell.

Probably in the history of Scottish battles I'll go down as the only diplomat who ever used two large blades to take an opponent down while cutting off his pants. Elinor had done well by making space for the practice swords in Fergus's over-sized shirts, and I had practiced fencing with two blades tied to my back. That had eased the stiffness somewhat.

Alvin gave an inarticulate cry and brought his blade down. By then, however, I had taken my chance and sprinted to regain ground. Endeavor's divine copy lay in my hands, hungry for blood.

The practice blades lay in the snow, all three of them with their rusting blades and hollow handles. Alvin ignored them, though I offered silent appreciation for Morgan's handiwork. Later Elinor would pick them up and add them to the prized parts of the Dunbroch armory.

"You actually think that blade is going to help you, win," Alvin said, brow furrowed. "That a compensation prize from the Trickster God will help."

I didn't respond. Endeavor now looked less divine, showing wear and tear. I took that as a good thing, strengthening my stance and circling.

Alvin took up his charge, but the lunges and thrusts lacked their initial fire. Whether it was his shaken confidence, my back being able to move more, or Endeavor's divine side showing through, I didn't know or care. I was winning.

"What are you planning?" He demanded as I flitted back and forth, answering his heavy swings with light parries. "What is your big trick to have your yak milk and drink it too?"

My face remained rigid, conveying the image of pure concentration. I was not going to betray my tiring, numbing limbs, to acknowledge the unwanted pink that entered my cheeks.

"Answer me, boy! You always have something to say! Something clever!"

_You said that my words were a gift. _I glared and managed to land a light blow on his right arm._ My silence is an even greater gift._

An explosion came. Alvin stopped to look back. Smoke came from the villages he had taken hostage, the Dingwall homes along the coast. So did loud screams and dragon roars. A few dragons even took to the sky, or set buildings on fire. Their colors were striking against the white, black and grey.

I took the opportunity to reach in and jab Alvin's neck. It wasn't a large cut, not like the gashes I had given him on the boat, but large enough . That brought him back to Earth.

"Cut Stoick the Vast's throat!" He shouted back to his men. "His son's an accomplished liar!"

"No!" I turned to run and stop them, only to feel a fist grab me by the hair. Alvin grunted in triumph, and then in pain as I slashed at his arm. My feet leaped from slush patch to slush patch, hoping to stop the order. Even so, I heard the sound of weapons piercing flesh.

Only my dad wasn't laying face-down on the snow. His two captors were, with arrows sticking out of their back. Arrows that seemed to have attacked from the clouds, shot by a princess with slender fingers. Blood leaked onto the snow from their woods.

"Dad!" I exclaimed with relief. That relief faded as I realized that Alvin was giving chase. He was still armed, bleeding from the neck and angry as a Nightmare in the middle of Scorching Summer.

Dad despite his injuries wasn't going down without a fight. He bent and hopped so that his bound hands were in front of him, so that he could punch the surrounding Outcasts with two fists. Quite a few fell, and more arrows soared from the clouds. They all missed him- Merida was excellent with her archery- and instead hit the men surrounding him. That gave him time to cut his bonds on a dead man's axe, rip the axe out of the man's stiffening arms, and stand with the charging Scots.

"Leave Stoick the Vast! He's on our side!" Fergus ordered. He started fighting alongside Dad, and the two made quite a pair with Fergus's wooden leg and Dad's wounds. The lords gave them a respected amount of berth, allowing cabers and Berserker firstborn sons to fly through the air. If not for Alvin, I would have stopped to admire Wee Dingwall's ability to take down half a dozen men in succession, only using his spindly arms and teeth. Wee MacGuffin used a large caber as a battering ram, running through Outcasts and Hysterics as if they were bowling pins.

"Dragon riders are attacking!" Alvin screeched, torn between chasing me down and leading his army. "Get the machines ready!"

Wheels squeaked from the Outcasts' rear. I heard the triggers roll up, the bolas being aimed. They waited for the next dragon to make its appearance, to locate the archer into the sky and take her down.

They didn't get a chance to fire. A deadly, chilling screech broke through the greying cloud cover. Green gas followed, the toxic Zippleback gas that had a nasty about of exploding. Within seconds the green coated all the automatic bolas and their wielders. Several sparks followed, and a few large explosions.

Only wooden rubble and retching Outcasts and Hysterics remained. They didn't stand a chance when the diminished dragon army attacked. Spitelout was in full form, coordinating the different species to charge in pure vengeance. A blue Thunderdrum with a nasty temper tore through the hostile enemy, screeching to reach his master.

"Good job," I said under my breath. Alvin heard.

"You!" He charged, and I slipped out of the way. "You! You planned this!"

I gave him a look, marred by my panting and slipping in the snow.

_Of course I planned this. You think it's easy to coordinate Zipplebacks to attack only machines and not to eat the whole army? Or to make sure that the Bog Burglars rescued all the hostages BEFORE we started a bloody skirmish?_

"I broke you! I marked you!" A heavy sword swing accompanied each sentence; I blocked each one. Several arrows ripped into his back and neck. He ignored them and tackled. I went sprawling, feeling the ice bang my right side. The battle sounds and noises seemed to disappear as my struggles became feebler.

"Hiccup!" Dad called as he and Fergus fought side-by-side. They had developed perfect coordination in a matter of minutes. He obviously wanted to come and rescue me from the immortal Outcast but couldn't, not with the two armies between them. It was amazing that I could hear his voice.

Alvin had me pinned to the ground with his large knees. I had free arms but not much more than that. He bent and tugged Endeavor out of my hands. The blade had lost its gleam, and several long scratches had appeared.

_Wait, the sword's getting old. It's breaking._

"You're going to wish you hadn't outsmarted Alvin the Treacherous." He tossed the sword out of reach, so that it lay at a useless distance, and leaned over. "Why don't we start by cutting out that tongue of yours before ending this battle?"

I maintained my stony, defiant look. Alvin took that as a challenge, aiming his blade at my throat. That was when a purple fireball caught him in the chest and knocked him away. I waited for the feeling to return to my legs.

"Toothless has wanted to do that for ages," Merida commented coolly. She had her legs wrapped around the Night Fury, her brothers each holding a full quiver or rotten fruit. Judging from their red faces and half-empty loads, they seemed to have been quite busy.

"Thanks for rescuing my dad first, bud," I whispered.

He gave a reluctant, affirmative growl. Merida reloaded her bow and fired, not missing a single target while moving. Her brothers cheered her on. My dragon seethed and shot fire, living up to his name of unholy offspring. He wasn't going to let anything happen to me again.

"We need to get my sword back." I pointed at Endeavor, lying feet away. Merida saw, and her eyes widened.

"We're going to need to clear a path," she said, raising her bow. Toothless understood and followed her lead. With fire and arrows, and lots of corpses falling to the ground, we were soon able to go forward and retrieve Endeavor. I wiped the blood off its blade, saw how much duller it was becoming. That's when I knew. Perhaps Alvin sensed it at the same time, because he came towards us, madness frothing in his eyes.

"You think you've won when you've only caused a slight delay," he said, sword raised. It was amazing that Loki's immortality was enough to fend off the burns on his chest- Night Fury fire could burn through Outcast armor apparently- as well as the multiple arrows sticking out of his back.

He was right. Even if we wiped out every Outcast, Alvin would remain alive. He would fall back, recover, and rise. Even if decapitated, what if those two parts of his body become sentient and separate?

I raised my own sword, standing beside Toothless. My dragon nudged, wanting me to mount. I ignored him.

Then, instead of charging, I grasped the sharp end and bent the blade. Cuts appeared on my palm where steel slid into skin.

"What are you doing?" Merida whispered. Alvin seemed to wonder as well, for he stopped, winced and clutched his heart. Nadder spines launched from the air and pinned him to the snow, before he could react.

Astrid swooped down and landed. She stared at Alvin with undisguised hatred.

"You are a despicable, cowardly Outcast," she said. "Not a proper Viking at all."

I kept bending the blade, distorting its shape. More blood flowed from my palm to the snow. Endeavor's copy made a faint squeak when it snapped.

In that moment, the skies darkened, threatened to hurl snow onto us. Alvin gaped, amazed that I had broken my own sword. He pulled the spines off his clothes, one by one. He staggered to his feet, still gaping. Toothless reared to send more fire, Astrid gripped her axe, Stormfly aimed her tail, and Merida raised her bow . . .

. . . Only to see Alvin collapse in the snow. He took his time, going down slowly. He fell on his own sword.

We stared, despite the chaos around us. The wicked blade gleamed like a red crystal. We should have met more chaos, that the Outcasts should have landed more hits on the four of us. We weren't meeting it for a reason.

Loki had given us a chance to kill Alvin. Unfairly, yes, but we had done it. Rather . . .

"Astrid, you did it," I said. She turned.

"What?"

"You provided the missing piece. Loki told me to create peace between the Scots and Vikings," I said. "Something that was impossible. But look at us, and look at the Hysterics and Outcasts. Outcasts are called outcasts for a reason; they're not proper Vikings. And the Hysterics, by choosing to enslave me and breaking the code, proved they weren't proper Vikings either. Not like the ones who chose to fight with the Scots today."

I nodded to the sky, to where Thuggory soared on his Gronckle and fired lava, where Camicazi gave the Bog Burglar war cry from the disintegrating clouds. To Thornado reuniting with Dad, tackling him and wrapping the long prosthetic tail around him.

"Not just Berk Vikings either. Meatheads, Bog Burglars, even the Murderous. You brought them here, Astrid, to fight with our common enemy. You helped kill Alvin."

She stood, open-mouthed. Then she came and punched me on the shoulder. That made me drop Endeavor's pieces. Merida started.

"This battle was your idea, stupid," Astrid said. "You created the Dragon Academy. If anyone created actual peace, it was you, Hiccup."

"Temporary peace," Merida corrected, giving Astrid a dark look. "But fighting as a team does tend to make peace last much longer. That's why the lords are loyal to my dad. So maybe we won't kill each other."

I nodded. My shoulder stung. We could where to assign praise later, when the shaken feelings faded. For now, however, we watched the dragons, Vikings and Scots wipe out the enemy, taking them down. Astrid went to swing her axe at Alvin's body several times, just to make sure. No one stopped her.

Endeavor's pieces writhed in the snow, disintegrating into piles of metal ash. As I bent to examine them, faint laughter hit my ear.

"I won't forget to forge a new blade," I said quietly. "Thank you, Son of Odin."

The laughter stopped. I could sense that Loki hadn't stopped watching, however.


	40. Chapter Thirty-Nine

**ForeverMe- Thank you!**

**Spannerspoon- Thank you! Alvin had that end long in coming (he suffers a more gruesome death in the HTTYD Easter Special, another long fanfiction that I completed). Most of the threads are wrapped up here, but we also have an epilogue coming up soon.  
**

The battle took time to end. A few Outcasts and Hysterics refused to surrender or back down, even with their leader dead and the dragons on our side. The stubborn enemy still had their axes and swords, and they used every opportunity at hand. Vikings were born to fight dragons, so they knew the tricks and turns with which to dodge fire. That meant us as well as the enemy Vikings.

Late morning rushed into cold afternoon. We had missed a few stray automatic bolas, straggling machines from the hordes that the Zipplebacks had torched. Most of the riders were used to dodging the rocks, but the maneuvers tended to throw off the dragons' aim. Thuggory and Fishlegs were having an especially hard time of it on their Gronckles, what with the tiny wings and large masses.

"Let's get rid of those infernal machines," Merida said with a hard voice. I turned to her. Astrid nodded with acceptance. That was why we had come, to fight together.

Merida made room for me on Toothless's back; we were used to the routine of my holding one of the triplets on my lap. Astrid followed on Stormfly; it became second nature to fire below, breaking up the enemy army into bits. Once, such brutality would have horrified me. Now I embraced it, in all tranquil numbness.

The fighting continued on the ground. Fergus stayed where he was, hacking away at any unlucky Outcast who came near. He was in full battle rage, whirling and spinning on his wooden peg leg. The lords and their sons had entered the same mental state now that the dragons were whittling down the enemy numbers. I had never seen more men or Outcasts fly through the air; Wee MacGuffin hit his stride with nervous ease.

Merida's arrows were merciless, cutting down men who had prepared for larger, less refined weapons from the sky. Her eyes become narrow slits, focused on moving targets below. Astrid also got into it, letting Stormfly shoot spines with just as accurate aim as Merida's arrows. A few dragons set the spines on fire, so that they landed as flaming missiles on the unfortunate men below. It soon seemed that she was competing with Merida to match her body count, muttering under her breath. The boys got into throwing fruit from the large height, pelting men in the face with rotting apples and berries, cheering if they hit a target.

The tide turned when Dad mounted his own dragon, after what seemed like decades of teamwork on the ground and then arguing with Fergus. The bolas may have caught Thornado the first time, but he dodged them with slippery ease now. Some of the men got desperate and fired a large boulder at the pair; Dad caught the boulder with his bare hands and sent it back. The resounding crash made the ground vibrate and snow burst in all directions, coming down on hapless men like waves at the Berk beaches.

"You can stop aiming now," I told Merida, jaw dropping at this display. "It looks like most of them have surrendered."

Snow fell on us like cold bits of cloth. Merida took a while to stop, despite the pricks of ice. So did her brothers, Astrid and Stormfly, firing and screeching. Stormfly did most of the screeching, but Astrid cheered like a triumphant banshee when not panting for breath.

"Astrid, I think we won," I said, alarmed at how violent she was becoming. My, how the months had changed things between us. "Astrid!"

The battle rage fled from her eyes. She looked up to see her axe poised in the air, though she wasn't throwing it. The axe returned to her back, where she strapped it with one hand. Stormfly quieted.

"You look frightened," she said.

"I've never seen you like that before," I said. "Not like you wanted to slaughter every enemy in sight, without mercy . . ."

My voice trailed off. Merida tightened up behind me as she relaxed her grip on her bow.

"I'm beginning to see how I looked scary, that day when I killed the Outcasts on the boat," I said. I looked down and realized that I had helped kill more Outcasts, thugs who had deserved it. The guilt seemed less today, defending the Berk Vikings and Scots on my dragon.

"There's a difference between the two of us," Astrid said. "I'm supposed to be scary in battle. And you were, with your little fencing trick."

"You saw that?"

"Some of it towards the end, when he was chasing you." Her expression became steely. "The plan may have worked, but it was still a terrible plan. It was very risky."

Yes. It had been very risky. We could have had a clear day with no cloud cover for the dragons. Camicazi and Tantrum could have taken much longer to rescue the hostages. The Outcasts could have killed Dad out of spite. Alvin could have refused to strap Endeavor to his waist, or snapped the blades in sheer fury.

"It worked," I said, sounding calm. "That's the important part."

We landed. Dad joined us on the ground, as the lords' men rounded up the survivors who had surrendered their arms. Dad tore himself off Thornado and staggered towards us, ignoring his wounds. Realizing what he was going to do, I unstrapped myself on Toothless and made my way towards him.

"Hiccup!" he thundered. "What in Thor's name were you thinking?!"

He lifted me in his arms and squeezed me into a hug. I didn't even have time to come up with a reply before the hug made every drop of oxygen leave my chest. His arms felt different, but his strength remained the same.

"Do any tricks like that again, and I'm burning every tail-fin you've made for Toothless," he whispered. "Alvin was gloating to me every day about the different ways he'd break you and how many times he'd mark you. Why would you risk your neck for that?"

"I'm glad to see you too, Dad," I protested; the words came out as croaks. The dried blood on his beard wiped onto my tunic. Viking history probably had more gruesome family reunions, but getting scolded after rescuing my dad? I'd have preferred a vicious blood feud. Or even a welcoming punch.

"He was never in any danger, sir," Merida said. She remained on my dragon. "If Alvin had won, my arrows would have pierced him clean through the heart. You saw how I killed the men holding you."

"I taught her that!" Fergus declared, limping towards us. His peg leg had suffered a few nicks but remained none the worse for the wear. "Excellent use of gravity for the impact, lass!"

Merida glowed pink with pleasure, despite the strain that displayed itself as tired circles under her eyes. Extreme use of the bow string had scraped her fingers raw and red, and she leaned against Toothless for support.

Dad didn't believe either of them. His arms remained wrapped around my small, shivering frame. He shook his head to dislodge flakes of snow, while shielding me from them. He seemed to fear that releasing his hold would allow me to vanish again, that more dishonorable Vikings would pop out of the snow and drag me off to the frozen seas.

"It was my fault," I whispered. "Alvin, he recreated the bola that took down Toothless. The Hysterics helped them. I didn't get to warn you in time."

"Hiccup, it's the middle of winter," he stated. "Astrid's first letter was lucky to reach us before the ice set. This was not your fault."

I could have warned you if Loki hadn't switched the biscuits. If Alvin hadn't made a last-ditch attempt at capture. You wouldn't have been caught and dethroned from the sky. All these thoughts sat on my tongue. The warmth from Dad's arms silenced them.

"How about we all get out of the cold before making our reunions?" Lord Macintosh called. "We're going to freeze our bums otherwise."

"We Scots bond very well over the king's best ale," Lord MacGuffin added.

"Now see here!" Fergus started. "I never said anything about opening those wee kegs-"

An argument started, with the lords and kings shouting at each other, almost coming to blows. Merida rolled her eyes. Elinor, brandishing a bow and a nearly empty quiver, rode to the group and gave them pointed looks. Within moments they quieted, exchanging abashed expressions.

Dad put me down. I swayed on my feet, unused to the gesture after so many months. Then I stared at his face. Although he was relieved, furious and fearful at the same time, gratitude and pride lay under those churning emotions. Those days of confinement under Alvin's harsh grip had taken their toll; I could count the number of new wrinkles under Dad's eyes, new worry lines and sags of skin. A scar dotted his hairline, which had started to recede.

Dad took in the stitches under my left ear and the small cut that Alvin had left on one cheek. Then he eyed my straight back, secondhand Scottish clothes that fit in the right places, even if the shirt had lost its spare swords. His gaze went on to the Scottish royalty- his redheaded, pigheaded nieces and nephews several times removed- riding my dragon, and to the vanquished men whom the Scots were marching.

"You were more than all of you today," he whispered, with astonishment. "Much more than I expected.

"I had to be." I wrapped my arms around him. Then I felt something strange along his left arm, the strange bump I had felt when he had hugged me at first. Before he could hide it, I grabbed the large limb and turned it over. My mouth opened in horror. Toothless reared as he saw.

A Slavemark gleamed on my father's left arm. The burn coiled and writhed, a black abomination of a serpent.

"It's nothing." He tried to push my hands away.

"No," I said. "That's not possible, Outcasts don't have the brand, only certain tribes-"

"The Hysterics had it. Alvin wanted to test it out. He called it a practice run." He wiped snow out of my hair. "We'll talk about it later. After we round up the prisoners, dead and wounded."

Numbness returned. I let my father go, to return to his dragon. As he turned, I swore that the snow washed out the color in his beard and red cheeks. It felt like no matter what I did, anytime an ice chip would pelt him in the head and shatter his stiff front about losing his position as Berk's chief.

No. I'm not letting that happen. Not to my father.

Calm anger took root within the numbness. An idea took form in my head, as I returned to Toothless.

"You've got that look in your face," Astrid said. She frowned. "Is now really the time for a crazy idea?"

"Of course not," I responded. "We have to move everyone inside first."

My voice had no emotion, but Astrid looked surprised. Stormfly huffed and squawked as snow landed on her blue scales.

"You said something funny. Or close to how you used to sound, before this all happened," she said.

"You mean when my biggest worry was making sure that the twins didn't blow each other up and about new dragons setting Berk on fire?" A teasing tone came into my voice. "Or trying to make sure that Dad and Thornado didn't kill each other while bonding?"

A hint of a smile appeared on her face. She got off Stormfly and approached. The wildness hadn't completely left her eyes, but her axe wouldn't split anyone in two.

"It must have been hard for you to hold back when you were fighting Alvin," she said. "To not be you then."

I shrugged. "It's been hard to be me since Frigga's Promise. But I feel more like myself than I've been for the past couple of months. Does that make sense?"

"No. But then, neither did training a dragon." She planted a light kiss on my brow. "You've been much more than you ever were today. I missed you."

My hand found hers and brought it to my wind-burnt lips. It was like rubbing a delicate, expensive fruit against raw wounds. It seemed strange, that she had missed me while we had been close for the past few days.  
"Astrid, there's something I need to tell you. This," I gestured at my stitches and at the battlefield. "This isn't over. If Norbert the Nutjob was willing to ally with an Outcast to nab me, then other Viking tribes-"

"I know," she said. "They're going to be remarkably bone-headed and persistent."

"Then you know that idiots will keep coming after me for the rest of my life," I said. "That I won't ever be completely safe."

She narrowed her eyes. The axe sagged in her hand.

"Why do you think I wanted to take you back to Berk after finding out Alvin was here?" she said harshly. "Why do you think I never left?"

"What do you mean?"

"For a smart dragon trainer, you can be pretty stupid." She clenched the hand I held into a numb fist. "I know what I said, that I didn't want to marry you while we were still kids. I still believe that. We've got so many years ahead of ourselves, so much to do. But we're doing it together."

Merida gave a small, satisfied smile on hearing this. She leaned back on Toothless. I kept Astrid's fist pressed to my mouth, tasting each tiny knuckle. The triplets leaned forward, Hamish making a retching sound and Hubert pointing.

"Together," I repeated. "With the bride and groom price and fancy wedding, I hope."

She gave me a light punch with her other hand, and her smile was genuine this time.

I had missed myself as well.

* * *

After that long day and battle, I wanted to pour myself a huge tankard and drown my exhaustion in mead. Perhaps I would have scrounged for some of the witch's biscuits so that I could sleep for days and avoid the discussions that would follow now that the battle was over.

Drinking was out of the question, however; I was a designated flier, and Toothless wouldn't want to lug my body back to Dunbroch. Things had changed also, with time and experience; I could not sit and let the queen and lords decide what would happen next. They needed my voice as well; to support Dad's if need be and learn of my crazy idea.

Camicazi and Tantrum tore out of the villages with glee, carrying several rescued Vikings. The Bog Burglar's Changewing practically burned up the ground with its acid and excited landing, nearly squishing Wee Dingwall. After apologizing for that, Camicazi talked rapidly, with Tantrum providing the occasional, moody interlude. They had arrived without a hitch thanks to their white hoods, and had started to escort hostages under the guards' noses. They had slowed down when Camicazi's sticky fingers had nearly gotten them caught, just as they were on the last dozen Scot villagers.

"I stole their underwear when they weren't looking," she had said proudly. "And all their fancy weapons so they couldn't fight back. They also had a hard time seeing me with my white hood, and then my black outfit when I sneaked inside. I gave the less-than fancy toys to some of the hostages. Once you burgle, you can't really stop."

_At least you were smart about stealing their weapons_, I had thought. _And I suppose with no underwear that fighting would have been less comfortable._

"Things were getting out of hand, so I rolled ale barrels at them," Tantrum had remarked. "Camicazi and Stealth, her dragon, jumped out of the way easily. Several crashed into Outcasts with torches. It made quite a spectacle and ample distraction."

_That explains the explosions that we heard. You must have gotten along nicely with the twins._

Lord Dingwall practically sprinted to the rescued villagers, dressed in ragged clothes and looking rather skinny for the winter. We saw more women and children than men, since Alvin had sent a good number of men onto the ice. He and his men reunited with the most scraggly villagers, asking about their well-being. Wee Dingwall, nibbling on his hand, joined him in reuniting with their people. For a small lord, and this coming from a runt, he brimmed with compassion when not making wild accusations.

"Your husbands are near Dunbroch recovering from frostbite," I heard Lord Dingwall say. "You'll be seeing them soon, once we set off."

Cries of weary, relieved joy echoed across the snow and bloody battlefield. Even the dragons dropped their heads to hide their emotions.

With the reunions done, we lit a bonfire for the enemies; I had insisted on fire so that Alvin had no chance of returning, or even of haunting the castle with his head on a pike. The twins were disappointed that we didn't behead any enemies, but they couldn't resist the idea of burning massive piles. Dad insisted on piling the corpses, on assisting.

Several Scots found dry wood, or what was close to it. Merida flew on Toothless several times to find enough tinder in the woods; Dad also chipped in. The dragons lit each pyre, the Zipplebacks displaying their prowess with gas. Toothless couldn't resist adding several purple blasts to Alvin's pyre.

Ashes rained on the snow, adding pure black to grey slush. The evening wind swirled the remains away, peppering the darkening sky. The Outcasts and Hysterics, those who had surrendered, shivered in their chains. The Scots gave them hostile looks, and Dad looked impassive when he faced them.

We decided on their sentence after flying them back to the castle and interrogating them. The injured, enemy and friend took longer with having to construct stretchers that the dragons could carry, but escorting the healthy prisoners became a cinch with winged reptiles. The flight gave them time to think and ponder their fate. The distance to the ground below etched fear on their ugly faces.

As if we would descend to their level, branding enemies with the Slavemark or making their life a living Helheim. Most of the Hysterics agreed to testify against Norbert at the next Thing, which wouldn't be for a couple of months with the winter.

"In the meantime, they can stay in the Dunbroch cells," Dad said grimly, over war council in a small chamber. "They can face Scottish hospitality for the next couple of months."

The lords and Fergus agreed; Elinor gave a tight, controlled nod. I bowed my head in agreement and sipped my head. My turn would come.

"We will not give excessive punishment, however," Elinor said. "Merely confinement, interrogation, and hard labor. Scotland is in need of rebuilding with the raids. They can do their part."

The lords looked gleeful at the thought of this. Dad rubbed the Slavemark on his left arm.

Night had fallen; snow batted against the windows. Elinor paced, in control of the room. She faced Dad, Spitelout, the lords, the lords' sons, and me. Merida was putting her brothers to bed, and Astrid waited outside out of respect for the queen. Thornado also had to wait, because his body could not fit through the doorway. His flattened head peered in, however, curious.

I sat beside Toothless, stroking him for comfort. How different things were in the summer, when sullen shyness and snake venom had stopped me from attending these talks.

Elinor stopped speaking. She turned to me. I stood up, gave Toothless one last pat, and took the queen's place. She took mine, resting a delicate hand on my dragon's snout. He purred at the warm touch.

"I didn't choose to come here," I started, "and the Viking chiefs expected me to do nothing as a diplomat. They merely wanted me to come so as not to deal with the hassle of a boy who nearly became a slave under their watch."

Lord Dingwall tittered. Lord MacGuffin clapped him across the back for silence. Dad and Toothless glared at them.

"As you all know, however, I'm not a mere puppet or a tool." I paced the width of the table, holding their attention. "I'm a smart Dragon Conqueror, a Scottish prince, and heir to my tribe. That makes me the perfect diplomat, because I understand both."

"Your father is also part Scottish," Lord MacGuffin interjected. "And Berk is one of the few tribes that do not conduct Scottish raids."

"No, because my ancestor Hamish could not tolerate slavery after fighting so hard against it as a diplomat. But nonetheless, my father and I are Vikings. We grew up with Norse gods, dragons, and pointy helmets."

Dad rubbed his Slavemark again.

"I don't intend to let tribes like the Hysterics and Uglithugs continue their horrific work, especially not after seeing what the Hysterics and Outcasts did to innocent Scottish civilians. The entire Dragon Academy is here, and students who stay can protect the coast as peace-keepers. Including myself and Toothless."

Toothless growled with relish. So did Thornado from the doorway. The Thunderdrum's rumble made Wee Macintosh cringe. He then tried to hide it by standing up straight and slicking back his hair.

"I can also bring more dragons to Dunbroch, since there is ample fish and water, to train riders for the different clans. That will give your defense a competitive advantage against tribes who also ride dragons. But they are to be used for defense purposes ONLY." I gave the lords a pointed look. "Clan Dunbroch will manage any offense against slave-making tribes."

The lords opened their mouths, thinking of protesting. Elinor glanced to silence them.

"When I say offense, I mean that we slip dragon riders behind the ranks to rescue slaves and return them to Scotland. And to other places from which they've been taken, before they lose their homes." _Like Jason. And myself, nearly._ "That I will handle personally, since I have the most experience with dragons."

That seemed to calm them down. I turned to my dad.

"Dad, I didn't tell you this before, because I was worried it would get around, but there's a way to remove the Slavemark. A dangerous way. The hooded slaves DID manage to brand my arm on Frigga's Promise." I lifted my left hand to demonstrate. "Jason removed it, however, and that's why I fell ill. The treatment nearly killed me, which is why it's not widespread."

Dad nodded, listening with shock and reserved anger.

"Berk needs a chief. If you have the Slavemark, the other tribes won't let you rule Berk. They'll enslave you, put you in chains, usurp the Dragon Academy and take away our home." I swallowed. "This was probably Norbert and Alvin's plan. As soon as you can fly, you need to travel to Frigga's Promise and to Jason, and get the treatment. I barely survived it, but you can."

These words were hard to say. They made my mouth pucker, as if I had taken to sucking on lemons. I had just reunited with my dad hours before, and now he had to leave, to save himself and Berk.

Elinor furrowed her brow. The lords would have murmured and clung to their sons if not in each other's company. Fergus looked eager to gossip, except his wife stood in front of them, threatening to glare.

He took time to consider my words. He traced the snake burnt onto his left arm, examined how it curled around the skin. Only then did he nod.

"A week," he said, trying to not let his voice break. "I need to at least get the dragon riders settled here, figure out who returns to Berk and who stays in Scotland. The next Thing won't happen till the ice melts. Sooner is better than later, however, in case I receive the illness as well."

He understood. No matter what other, less honorable Vikings did, we couldn't let them take away our homes from us, our statuses. We had to fight for what was ours, and we would.

"That's all I have to say. Except, thank you." I paused. "Thank you for helping me rescue my father, and for fighting the Outcasts."

"That's what civilized men do," Wee Dingwall said; he gnawed on a chicken leg and had spilled grease down his fronts. "We fight enemies off and keep family together."

Elinor signaled the meeting's end. We broke away, headed to the door. Dad went to Thornado and stroked him, whispering my idea. He grabbed me by my collar.

"Why didn't you tell me they had succeeded on Frigga's Promise?" he whispered. Fear laced his voice.

"First, because I was sick for days," I said. "Second, because I saw how hard it was, having them take me away from Berk. I didn't want to worry you further."

"There's always something to worry about." He glared at the stuffed bears and pelts, at the feast going on the floor below.

I looked down. The bards continued to sing their praises of the twins, and Astrid had to hold Snotlout back before he got into a sword fight with Camicazi. The Bog Burglar had nicked blue underwear off his rear and was threatening to hang it from the ceiling. Most of the Scots, placed bets, and laughed with Camicazi.

Fishlegs and Tantrum were wrapped up in each other in a far corner, his lips whispering sweet poetry into her ear. She was smiling, though the smile did not soften her red face. They'd stay that way for the whole winter, when they chose to return to Berk. Tantrum would later go on a covert slave rescue with Camicazi, undermining the worst slaver in the Archipelago: her father Ug.

"There's also something to hope for," I whispered softly, thinking of Morgan and his children. "Always."


	41. Epilogue

Winter clung to Scotland like a frightened child. The winds howled through the long nights, and snow fell in droves like icy assassins.

Yet time passed, even though the winter seemed to freeze time itself. The dragons could still fly, and the Vikings who had allied with the Scots could still think. Dad as promised went to Frigga's Promise to get the treatment for his arm, though it was painful. When I went to visit, once, his face had become ashen and most of his beard had gone grey.

"And you took it unknowingly." He had waved his reddened arm, showing the patch of skin that had dissolved. "If Jason hadn't been forced to, I'd wring his scrawny neck."

Jason had smiled on hearing this. He had smiled more often on seeing my straighter back and louder voice, and had even clapped his hands when I told him of the new Dragon Academy chapter in Scotland, training the lords' sons, firstborn or not.

"You'd have a tough time doing it, old man. I'm one of the few who can wrestle a Night Fury with my bare hands." He had eyed Toothless with approval.

Astrid had gone with most of the Academy back to Berk, to defend our home from potential invasions and squatters, after spending most of her time in Scotland with me. I hadn't complained, since the Dragon Academy needed a head, but we had started a mail system using hardy Terrible Terrors. She had scared off potential suitors, noble ladies from the other clans who could not match her blade strokes. Merida had snorted on seeing the girls flee.

"Not that you're homely, draugr, but you'd think they'd fight for you."

I didn't need them to fight over me, however, and I hadn't wanted it. I had craved Astrid's wicked laugh as she had cleaned her axe and the way she had run her fingers through my growing hair. If only I could have returned to Berk with her.

Those dragon riders who stayed after the battle with the Outcasts melted snow on the roads, so that traders and farmers could reach their houses safely. These riders included the twins and Thuggory, the twins for the ballads and Thuggory for his desire to learn about politics. We herded yaks and cattle to safety, kept horses in their warm barns and the Scots fed. Not every victory required violence or bloodshed, not when we had to strengthen bonds and heal old wounds.

Come spring, the snow melted without coercion, and animals other than dragons started moving. So did people, including grumpy blacksmiths.

"You're late," Morgan said on one such day. He had shaved off his winter beard and rubbed at a knot in his back. Judging from the lack of odor, he had also bathed to celebrate the first sprigs of grass.

I hurried into the work area, changing into the apron that Elinor had sewn for me. Toothless helped by nudging me along; his large head came in handy for that sort of occasion. My tone remained casual.

"Some diplomats landed early this morning. They rode dragons and carried valuable persons on them. I had to negotiate."

"Oh?" He pretended to not show interest, but his sunken eyes danced with malice. "Must be pretty valuable to avoid the weapons repair, Highness."

I knew as well as Morgan did that we hadn't put our full efforts into weapons repair. On the contrary, he had been teaching me to forge fencing blades, especially a blade that I could wield. It had helped that winter smothered most skirmishes, so that Dunbroch did not require an extensive armory.

"They asked for the royal blacksmith, actually. They are interested in the saddle-work he does for dragons."

He flicked a cleaning cloth at me. I caught it with my left hand and used it to wipe a weapons rack.

"Seriously, they want you to come outside and meet them." I lowered my voice. "As the queen's distant relative, I order you to do so before assigning me weapons to repair."

Morgan raised an eyebrow. Perhaps he sensed the smile hiding behind my solemn face, the eagerness that lay within.

"As you wish, Highness."

Before leaving the smithy, he went to each wall, straightening tools and arranging weapons. The triplets had retrieved the sword handle that the witch had given me, and Morgan had been fitting blades with varying thicknesses into it. I had carved Loki's name onto the wood, to remind myself of his request.

After piling the most recent stack of sketches, Morgan set off. His boots shed flecks of damp mud, remnants of his morning's test. He carried one of his favorite saddles, just in case he found favor, but still took large, clomping steps. I had to walk around his footprints for fear of getting stuck in the thaw. He walked more slowly.

"I lied, actually. They're not diplomats. They're members of the Dragon Academy, returning from a secret mission."

"Then why do you need me?"

"We need you to identify them. Tantrum O'Ugerly found these three, and she arranged for Camicazi of the Bog Burglars to steal them away. Ug the Uglithug, their former master, will never know where they went."

We came to the field designated for dragon landing. Camicazi and Tantrum helped three people dismount, four if counting a swaddled infant that the woman held.

Morgan stopped. The saddle fell to the damp soil. It had a pattern of bears dancing with maidens.

The three figures looked up. Tantrum draped heavy furs around the woman and her baby, fastened the clasp so that they wouldn't catch cold. They caught sight of the petrified blacksmith, mouth agape, his mind fighting against the unwanted joy and hope that he had long smothered with staunch stubbornness.

"Da?" The limping man called; it looked as though someone had broken his right foot and set it improperly. He had icicles in his matted hair, crystals that he brushed away before trying to walk. Camicazi had wrapped him in a fur cloak as well, but we could see how it hung off him as if he were a coat hanger.

"Da!" The woman attempted to rush towards him, only to stagger. Tantrum caught her and spoke soothingly. Svala had her father's hair and nose, but a much stronger accent.

Morgan turned to me, still agape. He tried to ask a question. I nodded.

"They're the first rescues, the first of many. Svala got married and has one baby girl, as you see. Her husband was also a Scot, taken as a boy. We couldn't leave him behind."

He still looked troubled, still questioning with incoherent words.

"Why did I do this for you? Because you may be a grump, but you're still a father, a loving father. And because no one deserves to lose their children."

Svala called again. Morgan's ears perked up, and he looked. Saddle forgotten, he walked forward, hesitantly. Gunther turned towards him as well.

"Go, Morgan. They're real."

He started staggering toward them, an older imitation of his daughter. I will not say that the years fell off him, that he bounded for joy and took his grown-up children in his arms. Grief and bitterness had eaten away at his limbs, and each step cost vital energy. They staggered towards him as well, taking care with their footwork. Svala's husband, whose name was Avery, helped Gunther walk.

I watched them tumble into each other, nearly collapsing onto the tender grass. Morgan uttered a sob that sounded like a hesitant laugh. The baby also started to cry, and Svala had to comfort it with gentle rocking. Gunther leaned on Avery, his face twisted with pain and confusion.

"I've never seen him smile," I told Toothless. "He ought to, more often."

My dragon agreed and lay down. I sat beside him to continue watching the reunion and the lightening sky. Tantrum stayed with them, to offer blankets and furs, while Camicazi shot me a wide-eyed grin. She stuck out her tongue to hide her watery eyes, since Bog Burglars never agreed to be sappy.

This is sunrise. Honorable Vikings sling their nets into the cold seas for cod breakfast and sharpen their axes for mending fences. Scots baled hay for their cattle and horses, sometimes riding them before a warm morning meal.

The sun never stops moving, never gives up in providing warmth and light. I used to find the passage of time a terrible thing, when stuck in muddy turmoil, but I accept the sunlight's perpetual motion as a sign to keep moving. Bad weather will pass, as will bad events. I had survived Frigga's Promise, and I had survived Alvin's attacks on me.

Things no longer happened to me, Hiccup the Dragon Conqueror. I made them happen as Hiccup, Scottish prince and Viking Dragon Trainer. As long as dishonorable souls kept trying to cut me down, I'd remember the sunlight. And I'd keep moving.


End file.
